Freaks, Geeks and Lovers
by Little-Firestar84
Summary: A carnie girl is found dead: omicide or incident? Suspects arise, secrets are revealed and new mysteries happen, while Jane finds himself again trapped by memories of his youth, with only Lisbon and their blossoming romance to bring him out of his misery.
1. Chapter 1

So...I know, I know, I've been away for... well, quite a long while. But, bear with me. life happened without me actually wanted it to, and then there was my two bigbangs fics for the Mentalist, that I really wanted to get over with before entering into brand new territory. (it also happened my pc getting a warm somewhere...or a virus... or soem kind of damn viral infection. you get it, right?) Anyway: here I am now. and this one? This story will end, I promise you (Like I promise you I'll eventually end my other Mentalist work.

Disclaimer:Uhm, No, I think I don't own them. I do have my job, though. But I don't think I could make enough money to convince Bruno to sell them to me, so...

note: a Mentalist version of CSI ep "Freaks and Geeks" (12.6). Because it was simply something that had to be done with Jane and the CBI...

* * *

><p><em>There Is Simple Truth About Life: Every Living Female Always Feels The Compulsory Need To Flirt With Patrick Jane. No Matter Their Age. <em>

It's almost four in the morning when Lisbon finally arrives at the crime scene, a small, quite secluded area covered in bright green grass, hidden from sight by few trees, not centuries old oaks but good enough. She knows the place, she realizes as she walks past a police car, a small area outside Sacramento that belongs to the State because it has some kind of flower who happens to be at risk of extinction. Just her luck, few meters, just few meters, and she means literally, and she'd not be here right now, she'd not be here trying to convince her hair to collaborate with her ponytail. She'd be in bed. Preferably, not alone. God, how much she hates her job when it interferes with things heating up and getting interesting…

She manages an half-smile when she spots Jane, waiting for her with his customary appearance (even at four in the morning) and with a cup of tea from Starbuck; her smile gets only bigger, approaching, despite the place, despite the events that brought her there, an honest to God laughter when she sees him grimacing, almost in pain, after just one sip of the hot beverage. Because there's only one thing Jane hates more than coffee, and it's Starbuck tea. She stops at his side, smiling, almost grinning, amused by the situation, but he doesn't say a word. He keeps looking at her, and then at their surroundings and back to her.

"Are you seeing something interesting?" her eyebrows almost reach her hairline, and she looks at him, quizzically. Jane, instead, keeps looking at her, amused, smiling with that grin, with a light in his eyes that says it all. And she can't help but blushes. Damn the man.

"Oh, you know, I was just appreciating the view…" he winks her way, and even if Lisbon though she couldn't get any redder, she does. And he laughs, shaking his head, not in disbelief but in amusement, pinching her cheek . "Oh, Lisbon, Lisbon, Lisbon… I was talking about the _city! _I've never seen Sacramento from here. It takes your breath away." He looks at his surroundings, the city, far away from them enough it seems a dream, and a rather pleasant one, even, lights shining bright, small, so small one could believe they were looking at some miniature, one of those village the electric trains used to go through in child games.

"Yeah, well, apparently, it took more of that from someone" she tries to recover, desperately, as she walks towards Cho, but, still, there's a shadow of crimson red on her face. She is flushed. It's not her fault. It's Jane's. Damn the man and his damn innuendos, and the moment her second lies eyes on her, she is gone, back again to bright and deep red. And the damn bastard giggles, actually giggles, like the damn bastard idiot he is. She should have fired him on day one. "Ehy, Cho, what do we got?"

"I just got here myself" he simply answers, indicating with a movement of his head Partridge, kneed on the soil busy taking pictures of something that seems like a carpet rolled, golden hair sticking from one of the extremities. She, though, looks at her second, in silence, eyes wide open, as red as a tomato, like waiting for something to explode. And Jane keeps grinning. "I didn't say anything" he deadpans, and that's when she knows. Oh, God, he knows. She just hopes it's because it's just Cho, and he is as almost observant as Jane himself, otherwise, if Rigsby sees it too, she is so dead… she can almost hear the rumors. No, wait- she does hear them, she knows them too well.

"So… what are we seeing?" she asks Partridge. She is just glad the kid is… well, a science nerd, incapable of seeing past his own eyes when it comes to living and breathing human beings. Jane's right, the kid's a ghoul. Same thing for the brand new coroner. Or medical examiner. Or whoever the guy in the dark blue coverall is.

"The tarp… because that is what it is, a tarp.. is pretty clean. It hasn't been rolled or dragged. I'd say carried, but I didn't find any footprints. That we could us, that it is. Kids pretty much messed up with our crime scene" he lifts his head, and indicates with a movements where, against the hood of a car, some red corvette, Rigsby is talking with a couple of shocked teenagers. The Senior Agent rolls her eyes. This guy is really something. And he keeps pretending he is one of them- an actual agent working in the field taking down criminals and risking his own life, at least, because, in a certain sense, he is one of them. And, once, she even thought he could be good. Until she understood he was just a sick kid getting all exited looking at gruesome murders.

He looks at her, amused, like to say: _here I am, am I not a good student? Don't you lean to make me one of your own, ask always for my infallible advice?_ Lisbon, though, doesn't even dare to vocalize her own thoughts, and stops Jane from vocalizing his own ones (something in the line of what he told the crime scene investigator the first time they met few years prior, probably) making her best "don't you dare" impression and lifting one single finger right before his cerulean eyes - he steps back, one single step, and lifts his hands up in the air, in mock surrender. She sends a look to Partridge once again, silently ordering him to go on.

He doesn't get it, though. "Partridge? Could you…" she waves at the tarp. "Could you unroll it, please? I'd like to give a look at the body." She huffs, exasperated by this child who claims to be an investigator (and claims to be one with the girls, she just knows it. Jane told her so, and Jane… well, Jane is Jane) and, gloves on, she helps him to unroll the white linen, or whatever it is. And that's when she sees it, she sees _her._

There's the body of a young woman in the tarp, probably not more than 35, blonde, her eyes closed with a peaceful expression gracing her features, a white tank top and matching shorts_, _arms crossed, each hand posed, open palmed, against the opposite shoulders, like a pharaoh. But that's what makes Lisbon's blood boil, not what makes her sick. It's the dozens of needles, long, sharp, planted in the woman's body in a way that seems geometric- and it's quite scary, thinking that maybe this could be some kind of ritual, that it could be another serial killer in the making, another serial killer come to life on the streets of California.

It doesn't even make it better having Jane kneeling at her side, sniffing the remains, close, too close, their bodies a whisper away. It's just the man's "Uhm" that makes it better, a bit. Because she knows that "Uhm". It's the "Uhm, I've got an idea" or "Uhm, I think I found something rather important you didn't see". She kinds of love it.

Well, maybe not exactly love, but, anyway…

"Care to share, Jane?"

"I think you'll prefer listen to Mister Medical Examiner. You've always been all about the evidences, after all, so I think you'll prefer hearing what he'll tell you. Me" he stands, and goes to Rigsby, strolling like some happy kid. She just rolls her eyes, her hand going to her gun on its own volition. One of these days, she'll give up to temptation of the murderous kind with the man.

"I'd say we are dealing with an expert here, Agent Lisbon" the young looking man says, bald, though, and a bit uneasy. He seems.. scared of Lisbon, for a second, she wonders what they told him when he joined the office of the medical examiner just few weeks prior. " the needles are thrust through and through, right under the cornified layers of epidermis."

"They are not post-mortem" Cho steps him, kneeling at her side where Jane has previously been. Just, a lot of more centimeters away.

The doctor shakes his head, no, without even bother to look up at Lisbon, he is completely engrossed in the mass of blond hair, taking in her appearance, thinking about who or maybe what she used to be.. "This way, he could minimize the hemorrhaging, while, at the same time, maximize the pain. And making her last."

"It wasn't about killing her. It was about watching her suffer. Slowly" Cho deadpans again.

They both rise, while the Doctor and Partridge stay on the soil busy examining and taking pictures. Lisbon takes a big breath, suddenly taken aback by the brutality, and yes, insanity, of this crime, than faces again Cho. She is no longer red, but… she is still embarrassed. And she hates it. This is the job. They are on the job. They should think about the job, and not her sexual life, or lack of. "All Right. Van Pelt is still at HQ; give her an image from this woman and tell her to cross-reference it with data in the missing person database. Maybe someone is looking for this woman. And Partridge, I want her fingertips ASAP, ok? I'll go having a chat with the kids who found her. That reminds me- we need their fingertips as well. I hope for them they didn't unrolled her, but if they did, I need to know."

She walks to the red corvette, from at least 30 years prior, where Rigsby and Jane are standing, the cop facing the two teenagers- a blonde cheerleader that seems rather oblivious to the facts of life, and a dark haired kid, a nerd more than a quarterback, something that makes her smile a bit – the consultant the girl's side. He grins at her, the damn bastard, and she smiles, hiding herself like a shy baby. Here it is, another female who has fallen head over heels with the handsome devil. "Hey, Lisbon, Antony here was telling me that the kids nowadays call this place the Missile Base." The boy panics, and the girl actually looks at him with murder in her eyes. Apparently, she just decided that somehow her (former) boyfriend told something she didn't want to be said (or even known) out loud. Ever. "Ah, today's youngsters. Too many beers, too little romance, swept away by the passion of the moment, and here they are, girls losing their precious innocence to bad boys. But I do think they have their charm, the bad boys I mean, don't you think, Lisbon? "He does that again, the damn bastard, looking at her with that look that makes her… well, it's not important, because she is on the job now and she has to think about the job, not about… well, naughty Jane. Or whatever or whoever he thinks he is. "Well, it doesn't matter, Lizzie, Simon, you can go."

"What? No! you can't tell them to go! I still need to talk with them! And besides" she hisses, clenching her teeth, her hand, once again, at her hip on its own volition. "I'm the cop!"

He grins, looking at her with that smug face of his. She can almost hear him (really, she must be a psych. Or maybe Jane isn't as good as he thinks he is), on the verge of patting her on the head like she was a brat or a little child crying once again for the last toy in fashion. Something on the line of _Hush, young lady, don't lose your time embarrassing yourself or making scenes, it's pointless because I'm right and you'll eventually see it so drop it right now, ok? _Yep. She hates him. Well, maybe not really hate, but, well, almost (Does it mean that there is UST between them? Uhm, she doesn't think so, because, to have UST, there need for… No, no, no, she isn't going there. They are on the job).

"Detective Jane, if you or your men will need my help, this is my number… my private cell number". Underage "Lizzie" looks at Jane with those huge eyes of hers, as blue as the consultant's ones, flashing him her most seductive smile (and licking her lips, nevertheless) keeping blinking with those brows of hers… and, when she gives him her number, she even dares to let her hand in his own for longer that it's considered appropriated, Simon forgotten. _She probably isn't the nice girl I thought her to be _she thinks, as she bites her lips and tries as hard as possible to keep her hands away from her gun. _She was probably dating the guy for some kind of bet. _She is pissed at this girl, flirting this much with Jane, being all touchy-feely with him, and she is pissed as hell with Jane who's encouraging her. Well, maybe not encouraging, but he is definitely delighted. She just doesn't know if he is delighted because Lizzie is flirting with him or because she is pissed as hell because Lizzie is actually flirting with him.

Damn the man. He is messing with her head. One of these days, she'll kill him.

"Detective Jane… finding this woman…. Has been…. The most terrible experience I ever had in my whole life" Lizzie says, theatrically, an hand on her heart and managing to cry few tears (which makes only Lisbon snort- dating poor Simon has probably been more dramatic for Drama Queen Cheerleader) "may… can I call you if… if something happens? I'm… I'm so scared…. And…"

"Elizabeth Stevens, right? I see you've already met agent Rigsby and our civilian consultant, mister Patrick Jane. Who tell me Rigsby already took your statement, right?" she steps him, faking, as bad as possible, tenderness and gentleness- which shocks and infuriate without limits poor Drama queen cheerleader, a shock that gets bigger the moment Lisbon takes away from Jane the "precious" phone number, her private phone number, nevertheless. "Good. I'll make sure we'll get to you if we'll need your help. Now, in your shoes, I'd call a good shrink. Maybe your high school could help? You've been severely traumatized, after all, you'll need all the help you'll be able to get." _But not from Patrick Jane, sweetheart._

Partridge makes a chalk of the corvette, just for precaution, he says, and then the two teenagers leave, quite in a hurry, both embarrassed, and Lizzie infuriated. Lisbon, instead, while they walk out into the night, she looks at the soil under her feet, mortified, while Jane keeps grinning like the smug idiot he is. The damn bastard, he did it on purpose. And know, even Rigsby… she awaits and awaits and awaits. And then, she has to give up. The soil isn't going to open up just for help. It would be too easy. Poor her. What did she do wrong in her life to deserve this? Oh, right. She keeps up with Jane.

"So… ok. Rigsby, I want you to canvass the area. Take few agents with you. The area isn't densely populated, maybe someone saw something. Cho, you are with him. Jane" she says, turning at closed, exasperated eyes towards the man, who keeps grinning (does he own just one facial expression, she wonders?) "we go back to HQ. We should have preliminary results in few hours, we'll go on from there." She pauses, and takes a big breath, almost scared. "You drive"

Her agents nod, and she simply walks away, walking in direction of her living nightmare- Jane's car. She can't believe she has been that… insensate, out of her own freaking mind. Couldn't she drive in her own car, instead of a company one? Oh, wait, right- she let her own car at HQ the previous evening.

"C'mon Lisbon, you know you secretly love my driving skills!" like the perfect gentleman, he opens her the door of the passenger side, and closes it once she is inside. He barely resists the urge to put in place the security belt, because he knows that, as little, fragile and precious as she is, she can't stand admitting it. "Uhm. Let me guess. He had a name like Tony or Mickey, you were… 16? Oh, Lisbon, Lisbon, Lisbon, what a naughty girl! I think, from the way you looked at put poor Lizzie, that he was a quarterback, bad boy but got away with everything because he was oh so popular and made scores and you, track team superstar, you felt like you were in the shadows, and when he approached you, told you he wanted to be your boyfriend, you took your chance on him. Because you loved being wanted. And because you love bad boys. That's something I know for a fact, so don't try to deny it, my naughty agent."

Now, that they are alone in the security, and solitude, of his car, now that they are driving away, alone, the atmosphere changes, suddenly, and she can allow herself to be… to be something else from Agent Lisbon, something… more. Someone lighter, happier. And yes… a woman who's probably in love. Or, at least, has serious lust issues with her consultant.

"Oh, well, you know the old saying, Jane… it takes two to tango. And last time I checked, I never raped anyone. So if I'm naughty, the other party involved is as bad as me." She languidly looks at him, and suddenly, images of the previous night (more images of the previous night) fill her mind, in the same moment he takes her hand in his own – the right, the one who's always been ring-less. "seriously, though, you should just stop with the innuendos…"

"It's not my fault if you are a little dirty girl with a perverted mind. Because the innuendos are not in the voice of the ones who speak, but in the ears of the ones who hear." He pauses, looking at her with dark eyes. "even if, right now, there are certain kinks I'd like to indulge into with you… I know you are not usually the motel kind of gal, but do you think we could make an exception for once? I'd really love to." His hands leaves her own, and travels, travels, travels, all the way until it reaches the point where, under her jeans, her femininity is pulsating with want and desire. She closes her eyes, her mouth a firm, perfect line. She hates him. She really does. One of these days…

"First, _we_ are on the job, and just few hours ago we said that, when on the job, we'll not allow ourselves to indulge into this kind of cravings. Second. I said we were going back to HQ, and it means we'll go back to HQ. now, move your hand away from me and drive back to the CBI, or I swear to God…"

"…and third, you hate to experience coitus interruptus as much as I do, so I think that for our good we should…"

"Jane…" she hisses his name, and he doesn't know how he can resist her right now. Because anger isn't the only emotion that makes her hiss his name. and having her hissing her name while he moves on top of her, and she is gripping him for the shoulders, marking his back with her own hands, that's such a turn on…

He lifts his hand in fake surrender, and grins, quite amused by the power he has on her. It's not only about the job any longer. It's something more, something more than, maybe, what she actually dares to name, to define, more than mere trust, or maybe it is trust, utter, complete and unconditioned. He doesn't know if she is aware yet, but it looks like they are in love, he knows it, actually. And he is planning to make her admit at loud (at least to him) as soon as possible. Because he isn't ashamed of the feelings who have blossomed for her, and he wants, and needs, to make her know it's real, for real, the real deal.

Because it's forever. And he needs for Lisbon to know it. Because she is his, and nobody's else. He needs for her to know it. And he needs the world to know it. She is his. His alone.

* * *

><p>Reviews, pretty please with Cherry on top? And I'll be good, I'll try to update as soon as possible!<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

New chapter! sorry, but job and life ( and a couple of great books I had absolutely to read in my free time, Steve Jobs biography included) got between me and my writing, so it looks like I can't promise nothing more than a chapter pro week- but Iit doesn't mean I'll not try to make it better, and to write more and more...

Disclaimer:Uhm, No, I think I don't own them. I do have my job, though. But I don't think I could make enough money to convince Bruno to sell them to me, so...

note: a Mentalist version of CSI ep "Freaks and Geeks" (12.6). Because it was simply something that had to be done with Jane and the CBI. especailly Jane.

* * *

><p>It's middle of the morning when Lisbon finally allows herself the luxury to leave her office. There's nothing new on the last case, at least not yet, not that she knew, and she is still submerged by paperwork about the last case- Jane does always his worst when super-riches are involved, but this last time… Well, not that she is exactly complaining, she thinks, blushing and trying to hide her smile. Because, at least, going inside at that super- selected club as a… uhm… wonnabe performer, it had its benefits.<p>

Her skin still remembers the touch, the looks, and craves more, even now, at the office. At first, when she had seen Jane, she thought nothing about him, because he never respected her orders, but as soon as their met, as soon as she saw how he wished to hurt all those men who dared to think of winning her body and soul… it was like something that had been dormant inside her finally woke up with a vengeance, because that look, it wasn't simple the look of someone who cared. It was the look of someone who loved. Wanted. Desired. The look a man not exactly jealous, but… possessive, in that positive kind of way. If something like that may be possible.

And, hadn't he showed her just how much he wanted her, how long he had waited for that moment? Their first try hasn't been exactly perfect, she had always dreamt of long, slow and tender between the sheets with Jane, but she could understand that, after eight years, slow wasn't exactly simple for him. Not the first time, at least. After all, everything that mattered was that, at the end, he let it go, and that he did it because it had been her and nobody else.

Second time around that evening -and third in the early morning- had been more pleasant, just like she had wanted them to be, the way she had secretly dreamed of being possessed by him, marked as his possession, for longer than she cares to admit- something not about just lust and bodies, but about feelings and hearts as well. And now…

Now, she craves him more than before. But it isn't just… she doesn't simply him to warm her bed, it's not that simple. She wants him, constantly, at her side. She knows it's been a long time coming, she knows she has felt this way from a while now, but at least… but before… there wasn't the component of him being in her life also after work and for something totally work unrelated.

Now, there is. And she can't help but think, she can't help but want, even after just one night, that she wants him to stay, to be there. She has to admit, she had forgotten how it felt to rise in the morning and find her lover at her side. It has been… sweet, and nice, and the fact that it was Jane, writing invisible letters on her back with his fingers, it made it even more perfect. Damn man, how is she supposed to resist him now? Or worse… how is she supposed to go on, even just a day, without him?

She seriously hopes he'll not change his mind, that he'll not take back everything he has told her since he has kissed her senseless, almost in tears, her in the back of that damn club. If he dares to do something like that… she swears to God, she'll kill him with her gun. Psychological self defense. She is quite sure somewhere it does exists. Maybe.

"Boss?" Van Pelt's voice awakens her from her reverie, and from the pleasant, and yet sinful, images of the past night filling her mind- M-rated, Jane centric years of unresolved sexual, lusted tension driven fantasies that the man just made reality- well, at least part of them. There's still a couple of things she wouldn't mind trying, maybe something related to the office. Or his couch. She could even allow him to bring her into that attic of his.

_Oh God, get a grip, Teresa,_ she orders herself, trying as hard as she can to concentrate on her junior agent. It's all Jan's fault. Jane and his damn innuendos. _You are the boss here, behave like such._

Van Pelt studies her, a bit…. Shocked? She isn't sure that shock is the right word to describe Lisbon. It's just like the boss is somewhere else- a place she doesn't want to know anything about, a place she isn't going to ask about, because they are on the job and they don't do personal (and yet… yet, Jane got them to help Lisbon out everything she was in troubles, even going against the rules, and so did them for herself as well, and for Cho and for Rigsby. And obviously, for Jane, because, how can you not help someone as charismatic as him?).

The redhead takes her boss' silence as invitation to move on with the topic without further ado. "Preliminary results just come in. The needles they found on the body were 20-gauge hypos, used in bone-marrow transplants."

"So we may assume our killer has somehow access to medical supplies. Any luck with serial numbers? We could try to track him down this down, or at least narrow down the list of possible suspects…" _When we'll have a suspect at all. _

The junior agent shakes her head, biting her lips. She is almost sorry to disappoint her boss, like it was her fault the information she is about to give. "Those needles are packed singularly, in a sterile package. Where the serial number is printed." She pauses, biting her lips, like waiting for Lisbon to tell her to going on, to say what she is wailing to say. She can't help it, even after years at her boss' side, Grace still feels like she has to make her boss happy, to help her put with everything, that she still has to prove herself. It's irrational, she knows it, and she knows it's not the case, but still, at the same time… it's like second nature for her.

"damn" she turns a bit towards Jane, sleeping (faking sleep, actually, she knows him too well to think otherwise) or that damn couch of his. "Ok, well, maybe it will still help narrowing down the list. Anything else?"

"Inches were inserted approximately 3 inches apart, perpendicular in a line, wrist to wrist, in a pattern that would somehow seem ritualistic" Jane interferes, rising fresh like a baby from a nap, moving as quickly and elegantly, as he stretches his muscles putting his abs in display under the tissue, showing off winking at Lisbon to further drive her into temptation. And she had asked him to stop with the teasing and the innuendos.. does he really want to be jumped in the attic or in her office? "Definitely sadistic, even if…" he stops, and shakes his head and waves with his hand like he just thought the most stupid thing in the world, something that doesn't deserve to be heard by his lover's hears. Or maybe… Lisbon frowns in fear, and he delights in her behavior, so predictable, but sweet and funny at the same time. Always scared that he could do something stupid and dangerous, his Lisbon, something that could cost them their lives… or their jobs.

"The ME also found, in her back, a kebab skewer with some black solid residue. Partridge will have the results this afternoon." She pauses, the redhead, and lowers her face, almost… scared, or disgusted, to say what she is about to say at loud. "Scarring is all over her body, consisting with needles and skewer, and… something else I'm waiting for."

"The information on our Jane Doe?" She shakes her head, almost, barely resisting the urge to. She just didn't think about the fact that she isn't sure she can keep calling Jane with his surname while they are giving up to their passion in a tangle of limps, scared that a female name could somehow turn him off or cool them down in the heat of the passion… but, well, she doesn't know why, but she rather prefer somehow screaming Jane than Patrick. Maybe it's because it's shorter (she tried calling him Patrick last night, she really did, but it kept leaving her lips only a sound that seemed "Pat Pat", and she didn't like it, not a bit).

She just didn't think about it. Now when there's a Jane Doe involved. A murdered and tortured Jane Doe. Oh, God, how much she hates him when he plays with her mind. And he is grinning, the bastard, she just knows him, even if she is giving him her back, she knows he is just doing that, delighted by her thoughts and her reactions. One night. And now she is ruined for life.

"Rigsby and Cho canvassed the area, but nothing came up about her, and the same with our databases- twice. There's no trace of her on ABIS, DMV, not even missing persons, but… "

"She was either alone or was living with someone who doesn't want to get involved…." He starts, rhythmically pressing his index on his chin, still unshaved. Why shaving when he could indulge in a passionate intercourse with Lisbon?

"He is right" Lisbon interrupts him, slightly annoyed 8as often, when the man is concerned) turning slightly to face Jane, perpendicular now to the two member of her team. "the injuries suggest that she had been abducted weeks ago. Someone should have missed her by now."

"…Or maybe, the person who was with her is the one who actually killed Miss Doe. She has been struck with needles for a long periods of times you said, maybe weeks if not months, and I don't know you, but I didn't see any trace of fight. It was like she was agreeing with what was happening to her. In that case, we would have the classic duo, a sadist and a masochist. Her being the masochist. Maybe something went wrong while they were having perverse fun of the perverse adult variety and the one you claim to be an assassin merely hid the body scared that our dear old CBI would accuse him of murder."

"Ehy, maybe a metal knee implant could help" Rigsby arrives, notepad in hand, looking at what he just wrote down, mobile still in his hand. She even didn't notice he was there, Lisbon realizes blushing. Damn, she really has it bad. "Doc says she had… uhm… some kind of knee surgery…."

"Knee arthroplasty, Rigsby, it's called knee arthroplasty" She hates know-it-all Jane, she really does.

"Yeah, well, anyway, it looks like they had a lot of numbers, that will gave us a surgeon and a name to our Jane Doe" he passes the notepad to Van Pelt, without even bothering asking first. It annoys her, sometimes, still being seen as the new girl, the junior agent, the one who shouldn't be in the field. Well, maybe they do have a point. She did almost marry a mole. And she did kill him. Maybe she should really just concentrate on computers. No field. And, preferably, no boyfriends.

"Oh, that's weird…." She says, after few long minutes, after she has put all the numbers in all the necessary slots inside a certain database that she is pretty sure she is one of the few in the room she is well aware of. "I got two names for this implants. There's the patient and then someone else paid for it. Looks like she wasn't covered, and…. Oh!"

"Oh? Is that a good oh or a bad oh, Van Pelt?"

"Oh, pretty good, I'd say. It seems that the person who paid for this surgery lives here in Sacramento…."

"Great! Van Pelt, I need the addresses, Jane, you are with me. send me the details over the phone. I don't want to lose other time, as far as we are concerned, this may be our killer!"

A bit annoyed, but still casually strolling at her side, Jane follows every steps she takes, and when they are all alone inside the elevator, he dares to skim the soft skin of her right hand. Grinning. Making her blush. "So, tell me, were you really dying to be all alone and on your own with me? or is it really about work?"

"Of course it's about work!" she screams, annoyed, and as red as a tomato, she almost slaps herself on the face. She can't believe she just screamed about… well, the possibility of something extra-work related between them. Doesn't matter it's true, she doesn't need the gossipers involved in her life more than they already are (she knows people said Jane was screwing her to keep her in her place, to use her, to allow her to be used) "we said we weren't going to get the job involved with whatever is going on between us, and I really do believe it. And besides, we always drive together."

"Meh. You usually drive me around."

"Of course. Because your car is a trap ready to be destroyed and because you wish to see the both of us speeding into death."

"Ok, first, my driving style is pretty much the same as the rest of the US population. Second, you have to respect a car that's part of a million dollars fortune in vintage cars!"

She smiles as they approach her car. Bantering is good. It's good to see that's everything is pretty much the same as it was before they fall into lust's embrace. And, she has to admit, she is somehow looking forward to see –and drive and be driven – into this so called vintage cars collection of his….

Oh, God, she really has it bad.

"Uhm, you know, Lisbon, I've always loved zoos. I think the animals one person appreciates can tell a lot about said person's psychology, and at the same time, it can explain how they see life, in general and towards other human beings. For example, tell me, what animal do you think I am? " they walk (Lisbon walks quickly, Jane casually strolls like he was in the park- she isn't amused, quite irritated, actually. She is starting to regret allowing him in her bed. He is already trying to convince her to get along with him on everything… Oh, wait, she just realized he did it even before they actually…. Dated, or whatever they are doing right now) across the Sacramento zoo, hoping to see the person they are looking for, already pointed out by one of the guards.

She rolls her eyes, as she looks around herself. And feels bile rising. Families, families, lovers, families, other lovers…. And all those couples, with that look on their faces, almost… stupid? Well, maybe not stupid, but, is she really that way as well? Is she that translucent like Jane always says? Oh God, she really hopes not. She doesn't want for her team to know that she and Jane are having, and, apparently, not so casually, fun of the very adult variety, and that there's a high, good chance that deep, real, ever-lasting feelings could be somehow involved in the process. Well… not yet, at least. Not that she doubts Jane's declaration of everlasting love, but better be safe than sorry. She kinds of like his face. And she'd hate to see Rigsby punching the poor consultant on the nose.

"So…what do you think I am? No, wait, don't tell me… I'd say that after last night you see me like the king of them all, the proud and sexy lion, a predator with quite the vigor between the sheets… you, instead… I'm not sure. You are a strange creature. You remember me of Daisy by the way you look after the one you care about, but you have traits of a panther. Sexy, elegant, but lethal at the same time."

"a lion, seriously, Jane? my, my, a bit full of ourselves, aren't we? You sure you don't feel like a panda? The one from the movie. Always getting himself into troubles because he knows no boundaries and think he can do everything!" she grins, leaving him speechless, for a second (she can't believe she has managed it!); and she can already sees it, the moments his lips form a little smile, his mind formulating an answer, some kind of smart-ass retort (because he is just that way). But she doesn't give him the time to reply. "Oh, Look! Doctor Grier!" she screams at the address of a woman, 4o something, wearing a stark white lab coat, and talking to an ensemble of, probably, university students.

"Yes?" she replies, annoyed, as they approach her- only the younger girl at her side, definitely not a student, blushes shyly at the sight of Jane, and Lisbon bites her lips to avoid grunting- yet again, another member of the female species falling head over heels with the blonde Adonis….

"I'm Agent Teresa Lisbon with the CBI, and this our consultant, Patrick Jane. we need to talk with you." She tells her, showing Doctor Grier the badge, Jane looking, amused, at the small crowd (and yes, a bunch of girls are ogling him, damn them and damn him).

"I'm sorry, but whatever you want, it will have to wait. I'm in the middle of a seminar" The other woman answers, merely gives them her back, starting to talk yet again with her students. "Now, like I was telling you before being interrupted, this disease cause the bones from the front legs and the back legs to grow at different speeds. Through a simple operation, though, the process can be easily stopped, and…"

"It's about your sister, Rachel" Lisbon almost screams, while, at her side, Jane… well, he does his things. He, amused, watches the rest of the world, studying it, analyzing it for his own good. Like he analyses the silent gasps of terror and shock if the young girl in company of Miss Grier- a daughter, he would say, or they way said doctor rolls her eyes, annoyed as hell, like it was just another simple bother, clear indication of her relationship with her younger sister. She just guides them aside, not too private, just to sit on two nearby benches. "Doctor Grier, when was last time you saw you sister Rachel?"

"Rachel? Seen her, it has been years, heard… it's another matter. She likes to call every now and them, asking me for money. Last time it was… four months ago. She had some medical bills, she needed the money. "

"Knee Surgery, right?"

"she doesn't know, Lisbon" Jane interferes, taking the few steps that divides him from the trio of women, as soon as he sees the grin of pure disgust on the doctor's face. And…. He grins, yes, because he just notices something, a certain behavior from a certain someone. Things are going to get interesting, he muses. "she stopped asking questions a long time ago, she merely wired Rachel the money whenever she needed it, and God blessed technology, so our pet doctor didn't have to put up with her, right?

She stands, the doctor, her face no longer a grin, but the perfect mask of anger- and it doesn't mean that Jane is intimated or that he stops grinning, he doesn't even take a step back or uses Lisbon as a shield as the doctor approaches him with closed fists and clenching teeth. "Rachel has always been a wild child that doesn't care about the others! She run away after high school, she broke our mother's heart, didn't even bother to come to the funeral! Why should I be nice with her!"

"In fact, you've never been. You resented her because she was a wild child. Because you wanted to be one, while, instead, listening to your family, you turned into a respectful and serious pet doctor, right?"

"Jane" the police woman hisses, and, at the same time, hits him in the liver, her elbow worst than a fist. She blushes, but yet, at the same time, the blushing isn't just of embarrassment but out of fear- she can already see them, the complaints, on her desk… "Doctor Grier, I'm sorry, but… we found her body early this morning here in Sacramento. We suspect murder." Grier. Lisbon can't help but focusing on this woman. A woman who has just lost her sister to the hands of a monster, a woman who never got to say goodbye, to close loose ends- so much like her own life, Lisbon muses. A mother she never had the change to say goodbye to. A father she never had the chance to forgive, to say that, sometimes, just sometimes, she remembered the good, old times as well, even if just barely.

Jane emits a low "uhm", so low she barely hears it, probably only because she has trained herself to, after years and years at his side (and life at his side can get dangerous. Even more dangerous than what it already is for a cop). She turns to look at him quizzically, and wonders why. Is it a good or bad uhm? Has he already seen something? She doesn't know, and she can't ask him in front of this people, but… but, somehow, his eyes a locked on the girl, the barely out of her teenager years girl, Doctor Grier's daughter.

"What…. How… what happened?" she finally manages to say at loud, even if, to get them out, Grier has to actually stutters a few times, starting again every time the voice finds its death into her own throat. It's sad, Lisbon has to admit, but when Jane emits another low "uhm" she has to agree with him on this one- Grier may be sorry, but it's not shocked, it's like she saw it coming, like she was just waiting for this shoe to drop. Probably she really did just that, if her sister was the woman she described just mere minutes ago, a wild child, always on the road, always getting into trouble.

"We can't say anything yet. But… we suspect that she may have been taken against her will, probably few weeks ago."

"No, Lisbon, it's not the case, isn't it, Sylvia?" he grins with his mega-watt smile, the one he has on when he is oh so proud of himself for having caught someone on their lies, pointing a curious finger at the young girl. Sitting at her mother's side, Sylvia looks at the soil, not at them, playing nervously with the hem of her light green t-shirt, an expression that she is somehow…. Ashamed? No, he immediately corrects himself, dismissing the thought. Sylvia isn't ashamed of her actions. Sorry? Yes, because she feels slightly guilty. But only because she told a lie, or kept something from her mother, not because she thinks she did something wrong. This girl, he thinks, she doesn't look like a criminal. And he has kind of an eye for this kind of things.

"I had lunch with ant Rachel on Monday" she whispers, shielding her face with the cascade of blondish/brown long, curly hair, falling on her back and on her chest. She doesn't meet their eyes, and they can hear her sniffing, this poor child. "I'm sorry, mum"

"You… you had lunch with _her?"_ the doctor forgets about them, almost screams at her daughter, almost on the verge of tears, hissing the her, not even bothering to use her sister's name. Her. Just a pronoun, like she was something to be ashamed of, something to bury deep down, six feet under, and never talk about again. (The wheels in his mind start to dance their happy dance. Oh, he already likes this case. This woman is already making it interesting. And, added bonus, the doctor doesn't flirt with him. Flirting women usually annoys him. Even if it's quite a turn on, seeing Lisbon so damn jealous…) "I didn't even know she was in town! And you… you never told me!"

"hang on one sec. Sylvia… you said you had lunch with your aunt this Monday? As in 3 days ago?" she turns to look at Jane, and oh, please no, she thinks, she sees it, his I said so grin. He told her it was someone this woman was intimate with. He told her it was someone she was currently, somehow, with, he told her that maybe, just maybe, they could look at that as a sadistic-masochistic thing and not pure sadism. He told her. And now she has to look at him in the eyes and say "thank you very much Jane, case solved once again.", like his ego really needs it.

Sylvia nods, finally facing them- at least Lisbon. "she called, and she said she was in town, that she wanted to talk" she pauses, finally turning slightly towards her mum, once again her voice a whisper. "she made me promise to not say anything. She knew you didn't want to talk with her, but she wanted for things to change, she wanted to fix them, said…. She wanted… to come home." She pauses again, and now, now she was really crying. "she, she was fine! She wasn't hurt, nor scared…"

"Sylvia, where did you two had lunch?" he asks, Lisbon mute in respect of the scene, and yes, even after all these years, still a bit uneasy.

"we had lunch at the restaurant of the Alcott Hotel. She choose it, so, I don't know, I assumed she was staying there…" Sylvia keeps saying, her hands now in her mother's ones, sobbing, tears running free, mascara straining her face in dark rivulets-it looks like that, even if she wasn't part of Doctor Grier's life any longer, Rachel was still, somehow, deeply important for this young woman.

They both nods, a brief and low thanks whispered as they turn and leave, allowing some privacy to the grieving family. "I'll have someone canvass the area with a picture of Rachel. Maybe she has been there other times, and someone could remember something, an argument, or someone else she was there with…"

The mobile is already in her hand, and Jane has a weird expression. She doesn't like it, because she knows what those eyes mean. It means he knows something, or is having one of his hunches, and, mostly, it means one important thing, one potentially dangerous thing….

He is probably going to get into troubles.

* * *

><p>Reviews, pretty please with Cherry on top? And I'll be good, I'll try to update as soon as possible... maybe in even less than a week!<p> 


	3. Chapter 3

A/N- not a week, but colse to. BUT this week, you'll probably have the rest of the story, worst case, just a good part of it...

Disclaimer:Uhm, No, I think I don't own them. I do have my job, though. But I don't think I could make enough money to convince Bruno to sell them to me, so...

note: a Mentalist version of CSI ep "Freaks and Geeks" (12.6). Because it was simply something that had to be done with Jane and the CBI. especailly Jane. This chapter, you'll get why if you haven't seen 12.6 of CSI...

note 2: soemthing towards the end, the name of Erzsebeth Bathory; you may not known her, but she has been considered the first serial killer in hystory; she wasn't mentioned in the episode, but recently red a book of criminology where it was discussed about her, and decided to emntion her here anyway...

* * *

><p>Lisbon has just closed a call when her phone comes yet again back to life, the ID identifying the caller like Rigsby. She crosses her fingers, hoping it will be something, because until now, the case is going nowhere. They don't know how Rachel has been killed, and they don't even know how. Nor why she had signs of old torture when it was quite obvious that she has been just a couple of days before dying.<p>

That is, if her nice isn't lying. Which Jane tells her it's not the case, and with Jane being Jane. unless that's not one of his stunts, but he would never do something like that to her, not now, at least, won't he? Because he says that, whatever happened between them, it's… it's important, and has been meaningful (she'll have to ask him to explain how exactly), that it wasn't mere sex (even if he seems to have problems keeping his hands for himself. Seriously, did he really need to try to run his bloody damn naked feet around her leg while they were having lunch? Just because the table was covering his actions, doesn't mean he was allowed to do something like that!) and that he wants more than a mere one night stands (even if, technically, considering the repeating performance of the next morning, it hasn't been a one night stand de facto…)

"Lisbon" she knows her voice sounds low, but it's how she is feeling right now. She has a family mourning, waiting for justice, and she doesn't know what to tell them, also because she knows the process, she knows they'll never be able to move on until whoever did that to Rachel will be behind bars. It happened with Jane, unable to move un until Red John was still alive (for so many reasons, fear of putting the one he loved in danger, in the eye of the storm, the hand of a devilish murderer), and sometimes, she thinks it happened to her as well, unable to move un fully, to forgive and forget, to leave her past behind. All because a driver went away and was never found.

_"Ehy, boss, Alcott was a bust. Rachel Grier was never registered, and no one recognized the photo." _

"Ok, never mind, it was worth a try" she ends the call, frustrated, her head hitting with a sigh the clear wood of her desk. She hoped he was going to give her good news, she hoped it was something. But there's nothing good on the plate, and the case… it's not just complicated. It's _weird, _and it's getting weirder and weirder by the minute. Nothing good about it.

She finally finds enough strength to move out of her office- crawling would be a much more effective word, though, considering her distress- and stands in the bullpen, Cho and Van Pelt busy at their desks, Jane napping on that damn couch of his, calm and peaceful with his hands behind his head and crossed calves. Not calm, thought, because there's just something…. It's probably his everlasting grin, the cat got the canary look, the one he had as well while he was devouring (literally) her the night before on her carpet- making it to her bedroom has been impossible, and she thinks it's quite the miracle he didn't took her there and then at the CBI, against a wall or on her desk (not a couch, never a couch, he treasures them too much).

"I just got a phone from the medical examiner considering the tox report. Using his words, the findings are inconclusive and confusing" she takes a big breath, pausing a moment, running a hand through her hair, cursing the fact that they seems to move in no direction at all with that case. "apparently, she had lidocaine in her system…"

"Lidocaine us used a drug as well. Maybe she overdosed and someone tried to hide the body and how she actually died" Cho. Few words (more than usual, though, quite shocking) but always the right ones. And a good instincts. That's why they work so well together. And why she treasure so much her second in command (hell, she didn't even get mad at him when he turned for a while into her boss. Actually, she was more upset because La Roche demoted him after a couple of days without reasons…)

The fact that the words are right, though, doesn't mean he is. She simply shakes her head, giving a second glance to the note she scrapped while the doctor was reading her the results. "apparently, the lidocaine has been injected at therapeutic levels directly into the tissue surrounding the needles"

Grace looks astonished (the disgusted kind of astonished) for a second, shaking her head in disbelief, huge eyes, a bit like saucers. "What kind of sadist uses an anesthetic before torturing their victims?"

Lisbon scrolls her shoulders. She definitely doesn't like to think about it. She just wants to concentrate on the case, resolve it objectively, and then, come back home, and forget everything and everyone, what kind of world they live in, and she hops she'll get the chance of doing it in the arms of a certain blonde man- doesn't matter if they'll be with or without clothes, a hug will be enough comfort, coming from him. "Anything else?"

"Uhm, oh, yes. Partridge sent me a copy of the image he retrieved from the… _tarp." _

"There was something on it?" she asks, surprised, almost running to her rookie, barely managing to avoid smiling. Ok, maybe, just maybe, they are going somewhere.

Grace merely nods. "Yes. He said it has been painted over, even if it's not the word he used. He was rambling something about Caravaggio and Rembrandt.." she shakes her head, disgusted a little as the image of partridge appears in the front of her brain. (She doesn't like the guy. Actually, she is quite scared by him. He freaks the hell out of her. Maybe that's the reason she used to think he was the mole in the Red John case. Too bad her boyfriend was.) she hands a a4 sheet to her boss, the image of a drawing printed on it, something simple, something stylized, and immediately, with huge eyes, and yes, a bit scared, the dark haired woman runs to the murder board, putting the printed image close to the picture of the almost naked cadaver.

"definitely no Rembrandt or Caravaggio" Cho. Again with few words. She turns, trying to tell him with a look that she isn't appreciating his joke, if it is a joke. She can never tell with him, a man who talks with almost no words and just one expression, blank and empty. A thought crosses her minds, as she remembers a woman telling him something, Summer her name was, a call girls he was. She told him that she could make him scream and cry. She wonders if she actually could, if she did. "No, I'd say it's a Rachel Grier" she turns again to look at the pictures, a drawing, and a body. The drawing of a hooded woman, small, bright flames on her arms. In the exact spots where the needles were on Rachel's body. "The patters is similar, and candle wax was found on the needles… that's gotta be more than a coincidence. What do you think, Jane?" Silence. "Jane?" she calls him again, and this time, as she hears again silence, she looks at him, and… the couch is empty. That's not good, the damn man wasn't asleep, and now he is trying to pull one of her, again going behind her back (doesn't count he says he does it to protect her, at the end, she is always the one paying the price, so he better has to stop if he wants to keep access to her bed. After all, dear old Walt seemed quite willingly to warm her up…she bets he still does).

She just hopes he isn't getting himself into troubles, since she doesn't have any idea where the hell he went. Oh, wait, he is Jane. of course, he is getting into troubles. Great. Now she'll have to put a bolo on his car if he'll not answer to his phone or will not come back in a decent frame of time. And the bosses will be mad with her and mean, because she hasn't looked after her consultant as she was supposed to and because she can't control her won people (=Jane). Great. And this is how he thinks he is protecting her job? Like it's not good enough having a killer(and, she fears, a serial killer in the making) taking inspiration from drawings… she can only fear what the next body will look like. Because she is almost positive there will be more than one body following this one, she has this feeling, and like Jane keeps telling her, her instinct is more often than not right when it comes to her job.

"Not to sound insensitive but… doesn't she look like… some sort of human candelabra?"

Lisbon nods to Van Pelt. "So, I'd say our victim was posed to look like this painting. Or maybe… the killer got artistic as he was torturing her. He tortures her, than he paints this, but he doesn't like his work so he whitewashes over and warp the body in his failure…."

"But what comes first? Rachel Grier or the painting?" she shakes her head at Cho's question. She doesn't know, she feels like they are taking two steps forward and three steps back, and she is getting frustrated and depressed.

"Ehy, guys…" they turn to look at Van Pelt, busy at her keyboard, always the tech-geek her "rookie" (she knows she did well into accepting a new member, her, in the team. Someone with her technological abilities was definitely needed. If she just could stop to fall for men she shouldn't fall for… especially bad guys with an hidden agenda. What's wrong with the poor redhead, always falling for the bad ones? It could be of help if she could stop ogling Jane as well… or is it the green eyed monster, jealousy, speaking?)"I just did an image search for human candelabra, and this is what I got…" she turns the screen, showing them a manifesto, a man, dressed in Houdini stile posing in the home page of some site.

"Major Willie's rambling carnival and curious extravaganza…" she closes her eyes, and massages the bridge of her nose. She doesn't like it. Last time they had a carnival connection, they end up having a case connected to Jane as well, which resulted in a sea of troubles and a fugitive escaped while she was around (Danny Ruskin). Also.. she doesn't like what that environment could do to Jane's frail equilibrium. God knows on which part of his past he'll fall again, victim of guilt and remorse and memories.

"They have a show tonight, at seven and ten…" the redhead keeps saying, moving forward on the site, showing few manifestos, all drawn into a style similar to the one of the painting they now possess. "… featuring our human candelabra… aka the magnificent Femmisstopheles, empress of pain"

"looks like the painting come first…" Lisbon tells them, closing her eyes yet again. Why does she feel like Jane will be there? "ok people, looks like it's time for a road trip… Cho, considering that Jane is nowhere to be found… you are with me."

-o-

The fairy ground isn't like she remembered it, maybe because right now it's night, and the show is on, differently from the last time. Last time… last time, when she was dealing with Jane's family, surrogate and not as well. Just the memory awaken something in her, the seed of doubt… does he consider them family? Does he really consider her family? Does he want something permanent from her, with her? She knows he told her so, but with Jane… she has become quite good at reading him, but sometimes, just sometimes, it's still hard. He has been a liar with them, hiding the truth, for so long, it's hard to say, really. Sometimes, she thinks she doesn't know him at all.

She is grateful to have Cho at her side, though. The place is frightening, even if people around herself are laughing and everything is bright and shiny, men dressed with bat costumes from the century before the last and the woman are in shining burlesque costumes- yes, even the fat, bearded lady.

She wonders if the odd sensation, the shivers along her spine, it's all because she thinks a killer may be there. Or maybe, just maybe, she still doesn't understand the fascination that humanity has for the grotesque, for horror. Probably because they don't live in that reality, are free and carefree and normal. She, on the other hand, just watches horror movies featuring supernatural and aliens- serial killers trying murder hordes of teenagers? Thanks, but no thanks.

"Boss? That's Major Willie over there…" Cho taps her twice on the shoulder, still standing less than half a step behind her, and, as their gazes meet, she turns to look in direction he indicates her with his head, and, as sure as hell, the man they wanted to talk to is there- Major Willie, standing on a stage with a small guy (smaller than her), asking people to buy a dart to pop a red balloon on the back of said guy.

A teenager with his girlfriend try once, and fail, and "Zodiac" just grins, showing off his muscles (steroids, she bets) all proud and mighty. She… defining her expression, it's hard even for Lisbon. It's not disgust. It's the people, it's the world, laughing their ass off because this Zodiac got darts (real ones, even) in his back).

"Uhm, hard to say who's more entertained" she turns, clenching her teeth and her fists as soon as she hears the voice, and here he is, with a box of popcorn, looking at the shows. Jane. she knew it. She knew he knew something and had decided to go on with his plan, whatever plan may be, without bothering to tell her. She is ready to tell him something, yell, even, hissing his name between clenching teeth (is it evil of her, doing something that she knows arouse him when she doesn't have any intention of alleviate his afflictions?) but she jumps when she hears a sound, her hand on her gun, like something just… exploded.

She scans the area, quickly, ready to face whatever comes her way, but she just sees Zodiac with a broken red balloon on his back and "Willie" giving a black kitty to the couple - boyfriend looks like the kind of guy who abuses poor, innocent animals, poor beastie.

"Ehy, Lisbon, do you want to see the liar of the human candelabra?" he grins, and she hates him when he does that, especially on cases, because he shouldn't find funny dealing with murdered people, he shouldn't be bothered when they have no case. And besides, she is also thinking of putting, let's say, Van Pelt, on desk duty for an unknown amount of time. Do they really think she could have believed it was a coincidence that the both of them used the very, exact words? Apparently, they just forgot that she is a cop as well. And a damn fine one.

"Cho, follow Major Willie. I want a word with him before the night is over. He may know of odd things going on around here" she turns, and look at a woman passing by, a dark blue corset, busy putting nails into her nose. "well, odder than the usual, at least."

She follows Jane, and stops, breathing heavy in and out as he stops, all proud and grinning satisfied, in front of Femmisstopheles ' tend. Closed. "Well, it looks like our Femmisstopheles is a non show tonight" she resists the urge to skim the texture of the tent, the same image as on the manifesto, as on the tarp- there is a connection with Rachel Grier, definitely.

"Go ahead, you know you want to…" he tells her, whispering huskily in her hear, teasing her lobe with his hot and wet lips. She moans, thanking God that Cho isn't there, and hoping that no one saw their little show. Also, she'd like to be all alone inside his car with just the man- preferably, with him sitting in the backseat completely naked and her on top of him. She slaps herself, blushing of a dark red- great way of respecting the job and the victims, she thinks. And she dared to call Jane insensitive…

Jane takes a step forward, looking at her with those huge and mischievous eyes of his, daring her to follow him, or to stop him, when, suddenly, it's a hand on his vest clad chest to stop him, avoiding him from going any further. And, suddenly, Lisbon is the one with huge eyes. Because it's major Willie, the one Cho was supposed to look after, to exit from the tent and stop them. And Cho is nowhere in sight.

"Can I help you?" British accent (she dated a British guy, once, and one other time she and Jane worked along a former Scotland Yard agent), but obviously fake, like almost everything about the man. A man who, though, has a certain… aura. Jane, he looks at him, with a mixture of regret, pain and yes, even hate.

"I'm Agent Lisbon, and this is my consultant, Patrick Jane. we are from the CBI. " she shows him the badge, feeling… weird. She doesn't like the air she is breathing right now, she doesn't like how Jane is reacting to the place. Memories? Or does he know this man? She is getting quite scared, she has to admit. Just one look has been enough, and she has seen him, the Patrick Jane she hoped to never see, ever again, after Red John's departure from the world of the living.

He smirks, "Major Willie", in a way that makes her blood boils. She is having vibes from this guy, and not of the good kind. "Sorry, no comping the constables here, I'm afraid"

Jane answers with a knowing grin, one that is almost like the one of this man they are so desperately trying to talk to, and she shivers. She sees right before her eyes complaints and lawsuits. Another bad vibe. She really hates her instinct. Sometimes it sucks to be in tune with her job and life in general. Especially with this particular man. "So… you're the guy in charge of this freak show, uh?"

"Willie" opens his arms, wide open, like to embrace everything, like to tell them he owns the place- and, maybe, even just the people in there, like a snake. Yes, definitely a bad vibe. "You've seen the game, you know the name, I'm Major Willie at your service."

"Well, good to know, right Lisbon?"

She nods, gulping. Oh Lord, how much she doesn't like that grin. She is foreseeing something bad coming their way. And it has Jane written all over it. "have you seen this woman?" she asks, showing him a picture of the late Rachel Grier, back from when she was still alive, given by curtsey of her nice- apparently, yr one she knew her better, until now, at least.

"Seen her? I've seen all of her. Femmisstopheles, empress of pain!" he grins, almost laughing under his (fake) mustaches and Lisbon would like to vomit. The man is a snake, and also an old pervert. Looks like poor Rachel found herself somehow victim of his hands and attentions. But when? And why? She'll look at this. "So, what did she do this time?" and now, she'd really like to vomit, with his daddy tone. Like Rachel was a girl to slap on the ass. Vermin.

"She is dead" Jane answers before she could say a word, causally like he always do, pausing, inspecting Willie's reaction. " and you don't seem too broken up… or surprised."

He laughs, the bastard, just a small one, that chokes in his throat, but he still does. And she fumes, and she'd like to hit him. He deserves it, she knows he does. She hopes Jane will put one of his stunts on him. "Am I surprised Rachel is dead? Absolutely no! and you want to know why? Look around yourselves. You've heard what Mr.… Jane here said. We're freaks. You try cranking up this whoopee machine two shows a night, 351 days a year, ending up in places you wouldn't want to be see dead in. " he pauses, turning serious and sad all of a sudden. "Sorry, poor choice of words. So, what was it? OD, an ex? I think she once told me she was from around here and Rachel always had the most appalling taste in men…"

"Yeah, including you. Lisbon, they were casually sleeping together, am I right, Mister… Willie? He and Rachel were, as it is said, fooling around. Nothing serious, at least for her. She probably had daddy issues, looked for the comfort of a father figure, maybe? It would explain her poor taste in men…"

Willie stands proud, almost daring Jane to move on, just a breath away. The vibe is getting worst and worst by the second. "I was the best thing that ever happened to Rachel. I saw qualities in her she couldn't see in herself."

"Well, Lucky girl I guess"

"Mr. Willie, we need to check out the tent. Would you mind stepping aside or we may wait for a warrant. The choice is yours. We advise to cooperate- unless you have something to hide, that it is."

He stands still, motionless, rigid- nothing about pride or force this time, more fear, they both see. And he seems he is going to say something, his mouth already open, when, though, "Zodiac" runs towards him, a face that means business. "Boss, Joey needs his intro" the short man looks at them, and when he turns his eyes to the soil, Lisbon feels like he is going to spat on their shoes (She wouldn't mind if he did on Jane's ones, at least, he'd be forced to change them). Cho runs after him, few steps back, lost in the crowd, trying to blend in, and, even if he wears constantly a poker face, she has known the man long enough to recognize when he is sorry and disappointed. And that's what he is telling her right now. Because he knows Willie got away, and he knows he has been inside Rachel's tent. And God knows what he took…or erased, or put there.

"Zodiac, aides les gendarmes" he spats with hubris and disgust, like he didn't care at all about them, while he moves his mantle in the air and slowly walks with his cane towards "Joey", whoever this boy is. Lisbon rolls her eyes, barely managing to avoid grunting or something as grotesque like that. First the British and now the French? And it keeps getting worst…

"You know, Lisbon, you and Cho can give a look here, but I think I'll keep my eye on Willie…" he puts an handful of popcorn in his mouth, and while she enters, the tent kept open by Zodiac, the woman rigid in fear, but, mostly, discomfort, he strolls towards his newest toy-vibe's not good, not at all, nevertheless, she keeps walking around the "room", and, suddenly, what Jane told her has sense, makes sense- that's not a room, that's not a changing room of some sort, or even her stage, it's all of them put together, and yet again, it's not. A bright red, almost purple, veil, divide the private quarters of the late Rachel Grier from her stage, where she entertained her audience putting herself on fire, allowing people to put through her own body needles used for surgery, for a kind of surgery, marrow transplant, Lisbon knows for a fact it's incredible painful, one of the reasons donors aren't that many. And she did it to herself. On her own accord.

She gets scared by the place the more she stays there. It's not a good feeling. And besides… it's really more like some kind of chamber of tortures, a place coming from the life of the countess Erzsebeth Bathory, instruments of torture all over them, right from a nightmare. Only, it's not a nightmare. It's true. And someone paid a price, the highest of them all.

She walks around the place, shiny things always ending up gazing her skin, and, carefully, under Zodiac's praying eyes, she opens the drawers of a closet, small, high more or less like a bedside table. "Ehy, Cho, I got hypos, skewers and…. Syringes of some kind?"

"There's something on the chair. Seems blood." Cho tells her as she is still kneeling at the small drawer, indicating with his flashlight the right spot. She stands, and joins him, taking a big breath and gives a look at it. And she immediately looks at her second, with the seed of doubts entering her mind, lingering there.

The chair is full of blood. There's no blood. "if she has been tortured here, there should be a void from where she sat, instead…."

"She didn't just give a performance, she gave her own blood. Literally." Zodiac says, grinning at crossed arms at their back, calling back to him their attention. They both turns, aware yet again of his presence, something that, they have to admit, they forgot for a while, so quiet and good he is.

"M' sorry, Mister… Zodiac? Could you tell something more about Femmisstopheles' act?"

"Wasn't just an act. Girl rocked the house. She come on the stage with a cape, and then we would put the needles trough her, and on each of them a candle, pitch black, and lift them. She used a shower of her own blood to turn them off." Lisbon remains speechless for a second, open mouth, a bit… scared? Disgusted? She can't find the right word- she is just pretty sure the world is turning crazy under he won eyes. But it's really time to think about that career change she was supposed to think about when Jane had been accused of murdering Red John, ended up in jail and she suspended because she couldn't control him… "Ehy, what's the point in torturing yourself if everybody don't get their fun? People liked to see her doing that, and they even paid extra! They were happy, he was happy!" _And major Willie was happy as well, _Lisbon thinks, but, somehow, she thinks it's better not vocalizing this particular thought. Zodiac may be little, smaller than her, but he seems a guy who has just escaped prison.

She takes another big breath, this time put of exasperation, and moves to give a look at "Femmie's " dressing room – Femmie, not Rachel, like she was the act and the act was her. "We'll need forensic to process the blood and the needles" she says, as she opens the fridge, as small as the one in motels, looking at the inside. No food. Just… "… and to this blood. There are bar codes, I need to know if it was really hers or where the hell it come from."

She closes the fridge, and keeps walking around the room, quite sure that she'll have problem sleeping this night. It does look like something from an horror movie, a torture room, or some sadist-masochistic club, with the thigh black leather with thorns, a crown, like the one Christ wore on the Calvary (blasphemy, for her), voodoo dolls and so on. She blushes, though, when she sees the costumes, the sheets, red, sinfully silk, calling just for sin and passion and lust, everything that seems coming out from Moulin Rouge, and she can't help but wonder, even blushing, but still with her detective mind, if this woman, other than being Empress of pain, was also the queen of pleasure.

"Boss, found something" she turns to Cho, and there she sees it, what she wasn't sure they were going to find there. And as she looks at the dozens of bottle of lidocaine, she can't help but wonder if that's her weapon of choice of their last killer.

* * *

><p>anyone, reviews? good, bad? I don't bite (hard, and just if you ask me...)<p> 


	4. Chapter 4

A/N- as promised: another chaper. I hope I'll be able to wrap it up sometimes this week/next one, so that I'll be able to move things along with my Christamas stories (I have a couple of them planned)... so, wait for updates, and to whoever reviewed (aka Country): thanks. I'm not following so much the csi episode I got inspired from, but it's just that, with the whole carnie thing, as soon as I saw it, I asked myself: why didn't they did it as a mentalist ep? and so, I'm remaking it...

Disclaimer:Uhm, No, I think I don't own them. I do have my job, though. But I don't think I could make enough money to convince Bruno to sell them to me, so...

* * *

><p>She sits in the kitchenette, late at night, almost ten pm, in front of her laptop, boringly and without attention skipping from page to page, an almost empty mug of cold coffee in front of her, big breaths coming out from her mouth in big puffs of hot hair.<p>

And then, magically, a new mug (with and pink), full and boiling hot, appears in front of her. She lifts her eyes, meeting the gaze of the man standing against the counter, leaning casually with a light, sweet grin, almost a real smile, and his turquoise cup in one hand, its saucer in the other. And, just like that, she finds herself smiling as well, not even bothered that it's not in the privacy of some place private they are sharing this moment .

Lying is pointless. She missed him, she misses him when it's not around, and in the months following Red John's death, it's been so hard, so painful. Every night, when she saw him retreating somewhere, she thought it was going to be the last time she was going to see him, that he was going to leave once and for all. She tried to move on, telling herself she was preparing herself for the broken heart, but at the end, the fear of seeing her happy with someone else, someone who wasn't him, just forced Jane to take action, to take courage and opened up with her. And, like he had told her after their night together- it wasn't just lust driving his actions, but complete desire, desire of her body, desire of her soul, desire of her life. He wanted her, all of her, and the fact that she was willing to take him like he was, just made, and still makes, him wanting her furthermore, in an endless circle. She is the one, and she has always been the only one he could even juts contemplating doing this with this second time around. And, sometimes, he wonders if she knows, if she is already as lost as he is in the other person of their little happy bubble of love- because it's what it is, love, nothing more, nothing less.

"Mind the company?" he asks her, suddenly at her back, leaning over her, covering her body with his larger frame. She nods, simply that. "so, what are we looking that got us so interested? I hope it's not porn, I'd hate to know I'm not the only object of the fantasies of that dirty little mind of yours. Not that you need to fantasize about me, dear. You know that you just have to say a word and I'll be naked at your feet, woman..." he whispers against her skin, barely nipping at the tender skin of her neck, making her almost scream while he grins, nuzzling the skin of her neck for a second before casually strolling to the seat opposite to her own, sitting on the chair with his feet on the table- she doesn't even bother to tell him it's quite disgusting, his shoes on the table where they eat, her eyes say them all, but he still doesn't bother to listen to her silent order. Getting her all worked up and hot and bothered it's too much fun anyway.

"I was looking at Major Willie's site" she tells him, before closing the computer without bothering to turn it off, just switching off the wireless connection button "Cho and I found a whole pharmacy in her room, including lidocaine. Partridge is sorting the stuff, and running another tox panel. I'm starting to think one of the other drugs killed her… and I thought that some sick bastard tortured her, when maybe she just overdosed…."

He shakes his head."Nah, it feels like murder to me. I mean, she certainly wouldn't have wrapped up her own body and dumped it. If she was just another junkie dying of overdose, why bothering? Listen to me, Lisbon, I have a strong hunch this is a murder"

They fall into silence, Jane looking into the distance, lost, a thousand miles away. She remembers him, this side of him, whenever there was something triggering a memory from his past, from his beloved family. Is it what he is feeling right now? The carnival, is he remembering his own past, his real love, is he regretting what they shared, is he ready to call things off? God, she hopes he'll not. She is into deep to just walk away from them. "So… what's the deal with you and major Willie?" she asks him, almost tentatively, shyly, blushing, her mouth hidden by the cup. He smiles. She is getting good at it. He'll have to teach her few new tricks, now that she has learnt, even on her own, the old ones (and reading him, master manipulator, is the hardest of them all).

"He remembers me of my father" he tells her, facing her, but his eyes lost, lost far away, lost in a memory, the time he used to be a boy, but not innocent, never innocent (actually, he thinks he may be a bit innocent right now. Like he told once to the big guy in charge, Lisbon brings out the good in him. And restrain him. And now, after last night, even literally. Blessed handcuffs) "Like you know, I was part of the carnival, one similar to Major Willie's one. When I was young, I was part of this traveling show with him, and we moved all around the country with our van. Dad… my father… he could be a real charismatic when he wanted to be, could make people do anything he wanted, just like our beloved Willie, and I was young, and… I didn't care too much about the others. But, still… there were lines that even I couldn't cross, didn't want to. And that was the problem with me. One day, a young girl, just a child, come to us for a private consult with her grandmother. Girl's was sick, cancer, final stage, and they were desperate. My father… he wanted for me to tell them that a block of salt we had was some kind of healing crystal coming from the ancient Egypt, and that it was going to save her. I told him no, and he didn't like that at all. "

"What happened?"

"Let's say that his words and his hands have been pretty convincing, something that I still regret nowadays, having tricked that girl and her family into believing she was going to be fine when she just had few days to live…." He pauses, leaning towards Lisbon. "My point is, maybe Rachel didn't agree with Willie. Maybe she wanted to leave, you know? Her nice told us she wanted to come back home."

"You think this is about control…" she whispers, elbows inelegantly on the table and chin resting on her palms "Major Willie's rambling carnival, one big, happy family… until somebody wants to leave." He doesn't answer, just grins, and Lisbon leaves her seat. She reaches him on the other side of the table, and leaning towards him, she tentatively, and blushing, leaves a sweet peck of her lips on his cheek, hoping that he'll get the message, and he'll not see her too mushy.

_Do you want to come over? I'm not asking for sex, just.. come over, let's cuddle on the couch and fall asleep while talking, or even staying in silence. I know how you feel when the past is brought up, and I don't want you to be alone, nor to think about it too much. The past is the past, Patrick, and you are not any longer that person… for God's sake, you were a kid! It was his fault, not yours, never yours! Not back then!_

He cups her face, and his peck ends on her lips, and when he leaves his chair, without thinking about the others, about witnesses or consequences, he takes her hand in his one, and yet again, he drives her home.

-o-

The next morning, when they both leave together the lift, Van pelt is already there, busy at the PC, so lost, so focused, so concentrated she doesn't see they are together, giggling, hands skimming each other- or doesn't call them onto that 8even if, knowing Van Pelt, romantic at heart, he knows she would, even if just with a knowing smile).

"Look, Look, Look, who we have here, shining early… Van Pelt, you aren't trying to steal Lisbon's bad habits and mine, do you? Coming to work this early isn't healthy. Nor socially acceptable, for a good looking woman like you. You should pamper yourself in the wee hours of the morning…" The redhead sends him a look, and then turns a look at Lisbon, who scrolls her shoulders. Did he just call her vain?

"Don't listen to him, Van Pelt. The only reason he is here always early it's because he sleeps here, you know, not having a socially acceptable life…" she glares at him, then, softening her smile, turns towards Grace. "So, anything new?"

She nods, giving her a piece of paper with few notes. "Tox screen just arrived. We know what killed her. AND also whom. " she blushes. "I hope you don't mind if I called him. He'll be here in less than half an hour. Said he isn't going to bring a lawyer…"

Lisbon smiles, Jane trying to see behind her shoulders what has gotten her attention and why she is, suddenly, so, so happy, but, mischievously, the woman hides it from his sight, with a small grin. "Forget it Jane, that's what you get for not having told me you were at the carnival yesterday. And you, Van Pelt, good work."

She strolls towards the kitchenette, with still purse and jacket on, still smirking and still not bothering to tell Jane what is exactly going on, Jane hot on her tail, even when, filled a cup with hot coffee, she goes into her office, literally slamming the door into his face, his nose ending up against the cold glass, Grace laughing under her teeth at his back. "Ouch. Lisbon, that's not so nice! You know how delicate my nose is!" (he doesn't add that revenge doesn't suite her. Revenge is a topic that shouldn't be discussed between them. Not if he wants to avoid her wraith, that it is.)

-o-

"Major Willie, aka Steve Watt of Tampa, Florida" Lisbon closes the file in front of her, throwing in on the table, in front of a man who doesn't resemble the one they met the previous evening, a polo shirt, jeans, no mustaches, no fake accent. Even his hair are grey, and not pitch black like Willie's one. "You know, without costume and make up, you really seem like another person. I guess you are not a… how you called them? Freak?"

At her side, Jane, balancing a steamy cup of tea, chuckles, studying with interest the subject in front of him. "He is not a freak, Lisbon. I think that, differently from me, he may be what in our world was called a "geek", correct me if I'm wrong… Steve"

"a… geek?" she asks, not sure if it's to Jane or to the man in front of them, crossed arms and rolled eyes in annoyance. She knows the word, has already heard it, but never, ever in this context.

"Oh, yes, you know, a person who can perform freakish acts without being actually a freak of nature." He answers he sipping his tea, like it was the most common knowledge of them all, like he often does. She hates him, sometimes, when he does that, the Patrick known it all Jane number.

"Guess I'll take your word for granted. Now, Mr. Watt…"

"I think I'll take, instead, this one" Watt leans towards her, and she suddenly stiffens, her hand ready to go to her gun, wondering what he is planning. But she is not his objective, neither is Jane; instead, he grabs his file, and takes from it a metallic paper clip, grinning like a maniac, playing with it like he was going to make something out of that tiny object. "Oh, look, look, look, what he is going to do with this thing? Uh?" he grins, laughing, and keeps laughing even when the metal enters in his body, piercing the skin of his arm like it was nothing at all. "and if you think that this was freakish…" the metal skims over his lips, and then, he throws it up, and takes it in his mouth like he was a dog playing some silly game with its owner, only… he swallows it, finally stopping to laugh, but looking at them with pride as he crosses his arms. "Don't worry, I'll regurgitate it later, and make sure to send it over, agent"

Lisbon remains in silence. Jane claps his hands, cup on the table. "Bravo. But, you know, nothing exceptional. Once learnt the theory, it's not as hard as one can imagine" he pauses, turning toward a gulping, and a bit freaked out, Lisbon. "You know, I knew I sword swallower when I was younger, he taught me a couple of tricks. But it wasn't exactly my style. Too physical for my own taste, if you get what I mean…"

She takes a big breath, massaging the bridge of her nose. That's starting to be a bit too much, and a contest between Jane and suspect number one, it's definitely something she isn't waiting for. "So, Mr. Watt, we know what killed Rachel. It's a drug called propofol, generally used in anesthesia. Too bad that, in high enough doses and without a ventilator, it paralyses the breathing muscles. And that's how Rachel died… she suffocated to death. AND we know you are licensed in Florida and New York to practice body piercings and modifications. That's how you were able to obtain the medical supplies we found in Rachel's tent. "

Amused, he shakes his head. "You don't get the meaning of the war between freaks and geeks…" he tells them like they were two children who need schooling. "a guy like Zodiac, he has congenital analgesia. He was born not feeling pain. He is a freak. Rachel and me, we need… needed… help of the pharmacologic kind. Stuff like lidocaine to take the edge off the pain and allow us to perform… no drugs, no show, no dough. Not that sometimes we didn't indulge in a little something a bit different to ease the burden of an old carnie…."

"But you are a businessman, right?" Jane enquires, getting closer and closer, his eyes similar to when he talked about Red John. It scares Lisbon, seeing how his own past still haunts him, how he regrets his actions, how… how painful it has been for him, growing up in that world. She wonders if this is the reason they found each other, because they are both broken, and only the other can heal them. "you look after you people, you take care of them, especially if they are earners and do as you tell them to. And Rachel… she didn't want to be an earner any longer…"

He laughs, again, chuckling. "She would never have left me. And you aren't going to arrest me, because I know you didn't find any propofol in her tent. Tell me, am I wrong or not?"

Jane stands, and turns to face the man one last time. "Well, let's say this is just our opening act. And, by the way…" he throws at him another metallic paper clip, grinning. "one for the road!" And while Watt keeps grinning, she jumps from her seat, following Jane. just for precaution, she tells herself, because she doesn't want to see him getting into troubles, but also because… because she knows him. She knows how he feels when he is in a dark place, and all this talking about his father, about things that remembered, and still remember, him of his past, they are all bringing him over there, where she promised, after Red John's death, that she'd never allow him to go back to.

"Jane, wait…" she puts a hand on his shoulder, squeezing the fabric of his light grey jacket with strong, but small, fingers, and he smiles, reaching for that same hand, hoping to be able to interlace their fingers even for just a while. It's weird, but it's good- she thinks the same, her smile, happy, blushing, radiant, says so- because it's something he has never thought he could, one day, do. Dreaming of her? Oh, he has done plenty of it. But it was all that, mere dreams, not even whishes. But now… now Red John is no more, and she is his, he can allow himself to dream of possibilities and to wish and to want.

The moment is broken too soon.

"Blood in the fridge is a match to Rachel. Stage and chair were hers as well." Cho tells her, giving her another sheet, just few words, like his usual- something, tough, it can be really, really, frustrating.

"Uhm, she really gave all of herself to the show, eh?" Jane asks her, giving a look at the result, without caring too much- they already knew it. "well, she stored it, it makes sense, right? Didn't want to die of hemorrhage on the stage, our Rachel…"

"That's not all. Forensic says that the hormone levels said she was pregnant two weeks ago." He pauses, and gives her another sheet, one that, this time, seems to attire rather well Jane's attention. "they also found blood and semen on her bed. Single donor, no hit in CODIS"

She reads it at loud, concentrated. "Profile is a male, Caucasian, suffering from neurofibromatosis type 1 and Protheus Syndrome…" she pauses, looking at Cho. "Ok, in English? How does it help us?"

"It means, woman, that our dear Rachel was sleeping with the Elephant Man- the vulgar name given to subjects suffering from Protheus Syndrome- got pregnant with his baby… and, guess what? There's an Elephant man at Willie's carnival!"

-o-

Few hours later, she is yet again inside an interrogation room, this time, facing a man, tall, almost twice her, who wears a soft sack of fabric, silky, golden, over his face, just a couple of holes for the eyes, dressed in an immaculate 3 pieces suite. (is that something that carnie people has, some kind of fetish?). She isn't intrigued, she keeps doing her job like she always does. Jane, on the other hand….

"So, the last heir to the House of Merrik, it's a good story, everybody who saw the movie said that, but, you know, at the end of the day, it's just that, right? A story. Because there's no such a thing as the House of Merrik. The elephant Man, he didn't have any children. So… Joshua Merrik, it's not your name, right? It's just the name Major Willie gave you…"She glares at him, sends him an admonition, a look that should tell it all. _Drop it. That's not the case._

Under the cape, the Elephant Man shakes his head, no. "My name is Joshua Helm" he says, answering calmly.

"Mr.… Helm, we know Rachel had been pregnant with your child. What happened?" Lisbon asks him, going for bad but not too bad cop routine "she got rid of the baby, and then got rid of you?"

"You don't know what you are saying…" he begs them, but his voice it's not trembling. "we were in love" there's, though, an hint of sufferance, of regret, in his voice, but it's like… like he was talking about the inevitable.

"That's why she wanted to leave the show, right? Rachel wanted to come back home, she wanted to have a family. She didn't got an abortion, she lost the baby, right? That's why she wanted to leave the show…." Jane tells him, shining proud in his intuition. Oh, how much he loves his mind sometimes…

"I told her she was crazy, told her I couldn't survive on the outside like her… but, she was… she was so naïve, living in her own fantasy land….she thought that our love could be enough." He pauses, looking at the table. "when she lost the child, she told me she wanted to try again, but I told her no, I told her she could leave if she wanted but I wasn't going to follow her…."

"Well, that's a good story, mister Helm, but, I'll tell you what, I've something as well" Lisbon looks straight at him, serious, but sweet at the same time, but yet cold. She doesn't want to hurt this man any further, can see the damage the society inflicted to him, but can't help but wonder… did Rachel Grier do something to him as well? What he just said, is it true, or just a lie fabricated for the Police's sake? As much as she wants to help and protect, she can't, can't allow feelings to cloud her judgment, her objectivity. "it's the story of a girl that hates her life. She runs away, looking for something, and she thinks she finds it in a man, a man who needs her, but then…something happens, something snaps inside of her, and yet again, she wrestles to find that something, and everything goes wrong, and that man, the man she loved, the man who said loved her, he killed her. Just because she wanted her life back…" she doesn't add anything, doesn't move any further on the topic, merely looks at him, in silence, Jane's eyes on her, wondering.

I'll definitely have to ask her. Just yesterday, he opened up with her, and today, it's her turn, mostly because his mind is now filled with questions, questions that will never allow him to sleep until he'll not have seek the answers his soul craves; it's not for her own good, because he knows Lisbon has issues just as much as he does, it's for his own good as well. In the years, he has become an addict to her very presence, and it has nothing to do with the fact that they are now lovers. It has everything to do with Lisbon being… well, being Saint Teresa, the fixer of all things (and people) broken. It has everything to do with the fact she is a constant of life since many years now, and not just merely romantically. Lisbon has been his boss. She has been his partner on the job. She has been her friend- and even her best friend- and she has been his anchor, his moral compass, his guiding light. When he told Director Bertram that she was the only one who could control him, could have a positive influence on him, he wasn't kidding, he wasn't merely trying to get her back to her rightful position. He was being honest. Even if, sometimes, he thinks he didn't even know it yet, back then.

Joshua removes then the cape, almost solemnly, quietly and slowly, showing them his face, dark brown soft and curly hair, adorning the oval of his face, a face half normal, half terribly deformed, shape without form, his left eye, sparkling, magnetic blue, merely visible under the waves of skin and bones and flesh; she doesn't do anything to make him even think she could even remotely be affected by the gesture, by his appearance, and Jane, keeps studying the cop and her "victim", he merely grins a little, one hand under his chin, the other tapping rhythmically and low on the metal table.

"I don't know what happened to Rachel, and if you are trying to provoke me, it's not working" she lowers her eyes, imaging that yes, she may understand why it's not working. This boy, this young man, she can't even start to imagine how his life, when he wasn't art of a carnie, could have been. Of course he had to learn to control himself, to not give people the upper hand. "you can't imagine how the love that we have for each other existed, because you never knew it, and you never will."

Her eyes become enormous, and when, with silent rage, she leaves the room, flying the situation, she can't help but wonder if Jane hears her heartbeat, crazy in her chest. It's not true, she tells herself between silent sobs in another interrogation room, hugging her knees, sitting on the cold pavement of the dark room, this man doesn't know what he is talking about. She knows love, she knows deep love, and she knows what it means loving someone despite their own nature. She isn't the one with the prejudices, he is. He thinks that the only problem a person can have is the physical appearance… well, he is so wrong, and he doesn't know her, doesn't understand her- or life, for what it matters, because he is too taken by his own existence, fixed on his own troubles, to think that, maybe, even in the outside world what he considers "normal people" may have been going through the same things.

She loves Jane, she really does. She didn't mean to fall in love with him, despite the sad fact that she has always been attracted to that handsome specimen of male, but it happened. It happened, and if Joshua thinks it has been easy… she has wanted for years, in every possible way, in every possible meaning of the verb, a man who kept saying that he had to keep people at bay, away from him, she has loved him despite the fact that he kept things from her, that he lied and manipulated and, sometimes, just sometimes, even used her. She has loved him despite his crazy obsession with a serial killer, she has been at his side despite the fact he had murdered a man in cold blood and was planning to do so again to the real Red John… imperfections of the soul can be so much worse than the ones of the body.

Her phone rings, and, checked the ID (Cho) she answers it, still sobbing quietly, sniffing a bit, hoping that whoever is at the other side will think that she is just having an allergy episode or a bad case of cold.

_"Boss, we turned the carnival upside down, and we didn't find any propofol.." _She gets rigid the moments she hears his voice. There's something… odd in his tone. It's like he isn't telling her everything. And she doesn't like it. Like she doesn't like the effect that Jane had had on her team along the years… she can allow the man to go behind her back, but her whole team? No, she doesn't think so.

"And there's no record of major Willie actually buying the stuff. We have nothing to tie him to the drugs that killed Rachel… we'll have to cut him loose…" silence on both sides. It's few, interminable seconds before she adds the next part of her sentence. "Cho?" she isn't calling him to see if he is still on the phone. She just wants… to make sure he'll get the message. _Tell me what you know. _

_"Boss, it looks like we'll have to cut major Willie loose again… literally" _She gasps when she listens to the rest of the conversation, and, the moment Jane joins her in the room, it's the moment she ends the call; he looks at her, expectant, and helps her standing on her feet, cheeks strained by mascara- she'll never, ever, wear makeup on the job again, not to make him happy.

"I've got a good news and a bad news….bad news, our prime suspect, major Willie, the one with means and motivations, and with no alibi, has just been found dead…"

"and the bad news?"

She glares at him, not even bothering to roll her eyes. Sometimes, the man can really be an idiot. That was the bad news, that the suspect has been found dead, and it doesn't matter that he was a bastard and used and exploited people who allowed him to because they just looked at the bright side. There's a man who's dead, who's been murdered, and it's never a good thing. Also, a little bit of respect wouldn't be a problem. "the good news, is that we already have the culprit. And you'll never guess who apparently murdered the old guy…"

* * *

><p>anyone, reviews? good, bad? I don't bite (hard, and just if you ask me...)<p> 


	5. Chapter 5

Di sclaimer:Uhm, no, I don't think I do.

* * *

><p>This time, she looks at the interview (at least part of it, the one done from the forensic team, who's collecting physical evidence from the girl) from the two-way mirror, she doesn't feel like sitting yet again in front of a suspect, and there's something in particular about this particular suspect…. It's not that she is uneasy, it's just…. It's hard to believe; she takes a big breath, eyes closed, standing at crossed arms, feeling the woman at her side rigid with pain and fear and… something else. She understands her- actually, she can't, not really. This woman… in two days' time, she lost her sister and now she is sitting at the CBI headquarter looking at her own daughter, ready to be questioned concerning the murder of "Major Willie"… the suspect murderer of the girl's aunt, Rachel Grier.<p>

She wonders how much Doctor Grier will have to go through in her life, like it hasn't been enough until now. Raising a sibling who doesn't want to accept the responsibilities of life, looking after an old, sick, mother and having to bury her alone, and always alone rising a daughter – a daughter with her mother and aunt's surname- and now… now, she is going to bury a sister she no longer knew, a sister she has never been able to know, and is looking at her daughter, the one she tried to raise as best as she could, risking arrest for first degree murder.

Life hasn't been fair with this woman. But anyway, when is life fair at all? Life hasn't been fair with herself, giving her responsibilities when she was supposed to have freedom and pain when she was supposed to have happiness, and life hasn't as sure as heel been fair with Jane, not allowing him to have a proper childhood when he was supposed to have one, having him robbed of the love of loving parents, and mostly, taking away the only that ever really mattered to him, the family he created, the family he choose, his beautiful wife and his innocent, little girl.

She still wonders if everything he told her it's true, about his feelings for her, if he is sure or it's just desperately attempting to recreate a version of life, of domesticity with her. She wonders how he could react, how he could be, if she were no more. Is it the reason he shot Hardy? Because, even back then, he needed her, and his need for her was already stronger than his need for revenge?

She wonders when it all got so complicated, why this case is so complicated, is messing so much with their emotions- hers in particular, no wonder Jane is on edge, at his worst behavior. She shouldn't have doubts about her and Jane, though (he let go of Red John, he didn't leave after the killer had been declared dead by a coroner after a lucky shot by one of his dying victim, a bullet to the femoral artery by a husband he thought was long gone… and he told her he loves her, and he showed her) but still… maybe she is just scared, scared that this case- carnie people, his people- would… bring back memories, or plant the seed of doubt in his mind and his heart and soul. She just experienced "old Jane" once (and he doesn't even remember it), and she knows he was… well, for lack of a better word, he was a bastard at heart, and she knows he hates his old self as much as she hated him when he met "that man" (even if he showed interest in her and even tried to bed her. But sex wasn't what she was looking for from Jane, not only, at least, and that wasn't a compromise she could accept, not back then, not with a man who was Jane in body but not soul), but still… she wonders, and she keeps wondering and wondering and wondering, asking herself if he never misses it, his old life, never been in the same place for too long, wandering all around the world, and the spotlight and the fame and the money and everybody at his feet (not that he doesn't have everybody at his feet, though, but, still…)

"This… this is insane…" Dr. Grier's voice awakens her, and yet again, Lisbon's eyes fall on the rigid woman at her side- rigid in moral and posture as well, both literally and figuratively speaking – but there's something… odd about her. She isn't crying, but she doesn't even seem… desperate. She steals a glance at Jane, sitting at their back, concentrated –concentrated on Dr. Grier's back with a weird grin that doesn't leave too much to the imagination, and that tells her that there's nothing good coming their way- either he is going to pull a stunt of his own, or he'll drive someone mad. Or maybe, just like usual, he knows something and hasn't bothered to share it with her yet.

Knowing him, that's the answer to all her questions- well, tribulations, actually.

"Miss Grier, your daughter Sylvia was detained while flying the scene of an homicide"

Grier turns to face her, now, now she is angry, now she is mad- and maybe, even just a bit in shock. "Listen, I don't know what my daughter was doing at that….. freak show" she hisses the last two words, with clear disgust, and Jane at her back does yet again that sound, the interested "uhm" that he always does when he finds something amusing or useful, like he was having one of his usual closing case-related Epiphanies. "But I know one thing: my daughter would never, ever, hurt anyone!"

"Well, then, you shouldn't be so tense" he tells them, without moving from his chair, gesticulating a bit with his hands. "if she isn't guilty, there's nothing to worry about, right? And now, if you don't mind, id' like to ask our girl a few questions of my own. And then, I'll tell you if there's something to worry about, because believe me, Dr. Grier, a couple of minutes with your daughter, and I'll tell you if she is guilty. " smiling of his damn smile, he jogs out of the room, leaving a fuming Dr. Grier behind- somehow, he always irritates suspects and their families – and an agonizing Lisbon – somehow he always leave her to damage-control of the damage he causes while going havoc on the world all around them without bothering to think about consequences and reflecting like a 5 years old would – behind.

She doesn't say a word. She merely leaves the room, eyes fixed on the soil, like she was ashamed, like a silent "sorry, but it's not my fault, he is an adult and I can't take full responsibility for what he does, but I'm still sorry and I beg you, don't fill a report about his behavior", and joins Jane, who's waiting for her keeping the door open for her to pass through- she wonders if it's because chivalry isn't dead or because he has gotten used to allow her to pass first through doors so he can't get shot or tackled.

"Hello Sylvia, I'm mister Jane, we already talked, remember? And this is Agent Lisbon" the girl nods as they sit in front of her, both trying to put her at easy, understanding how hard it can be for her, unable both to really believe that such a frail girl could do such a thing, like killing a man and stage a suicide. "Sylvia, did you go to the carnival because you learnt of your aunt? Because you learnt who your aunt really was."

She nods, tears spilling from her eyes. "I… wanted to see for myself. I… saw the story online, sideshow performer murdered, and… I saw her pictures. And it was aunt Rachel. " she stops, smiling a little, and tries to go on, but Jane stops her before she could actually say a word furthermore.

"Your mother. She resented your aunt, she was dead to her, but for you, it was different, right? You idolized your aunt, that force of nature, who did as she pleased, going wherever she wanted whenever she felt like, no restraints, no people to answer to. The opposite of your life, right? Because that's how you feel. You feel trapped, but you can't see an exit. You feel you owe your mother, so you don't leave her side, even if that's what you secretly crave. That's why you envied your aunt, you felt this amazing connection with her, a connection, though, you never fully understood, you were almost ashamed of it, because, frankly, who loves more the aunt they never see more than their mother, who raised them all alone making sacrifices after sacrifices? " he leans towards her, forearms on the metallic table, facing the poor girl, now wearing just a red prison uniform, her clothe snow part of the evidences. "did you loved you aunt enough to kill the man you thought responsible of her murder?"

"I… I… I didn't kill that man…" she sobs, covering her face with her hands, Lisbon's elbow hitting Jane, insensitive Jerk as usual, in the side. She hopes it hurt.

"Sylvia, tell me what happened…" she asks her, sweetly, wondering if what Jane told is true. If it is… she feels the connection as well. Duty and responsibilities never allowed her to leave her family, not even when her father was a drunk monster hitting her for fun and in a desperate attempt of alleviating the pain of the loss of his beautiful wife- did Jane do that too, looking for chemical ways of forgetting the pain, the loss? Did he hurt himself to suffer, so that it was body to feel the pain and not the ache in his heart?

Sylvia closes her eyes, like to better concentrate, to remind every single particular. "I… went there, looking for where aunt Rachel was living, but… I got lost. I saw that tent.. it was… ajar…. And I went inside, I wanted to ask for help…. And… that's when I saw him…. And suddenly…. Suddenly they were all around me, looking at me, staring at me…. because… because they thought I did it… and… and I was so scared… and I ran, and run and run, and I hide… but the officer found me, and… he though I did it as well… and…" she start crying, a river of tears leaving her dark blue eyes; Lisbon gets lost in them, in eyes that are so similar to Jane's (When he is happy; they are more on the tone of green when he is sad or broken. They've been green for a long time.) and not for the first time she wonders if his kids- _their kids? – _will have those blue eyes, _if _he'll ever think about having kids again.

She shouldn't think about that. She has never thought about that, and for a good reason. Because she knew that whatever Jane was involved into, it could mean only heartache for her, but now… now they have opened up Pandora's box, and there's no way to take it back, there's no way to stop her mind from wondering into domesticity and family territory, a world, maybe a fantasy one, where they just didn't have merely sex (if this is what happened, she doesn't know, isn't sure, not any longer) , a world where they don't even just plan a life, but where they actually have it.

She wonders when everything started to go to hell and back….

-o-

She is again in her office, blinds closed, hugged by darkness, when Jane joins her, picking up the lock (she just smiles a little at that) and casually sitting in front of her, cup of coffee on the desk for Lisbon and teacup in hand for himself, and then… then, they remain in silence for the longest time, just t sound of the ventilator, quiet, interrupting them.

"You know, I don't know what to think anymore" he admits, smiling a bit, almost laughing, because, he has to admit, it's the first time. "maybe I made a mistake about Major Willie, maybe I let my past cloud my judgment"

She looks at him, and almost starts to cry for him. She knows that expression, he had it when that wonnabe serial killer got murdered by Red John because Jane himself started to talk about the serial killer on TV, giving life to the argument, and she hates seeing him like that. Because Jane didn't kill that man. Jane didn't kill his family. And Jane didn't kill Major Willie. And feeling guilty because of that… it's wrong. He shouldn't feel bad because sometimes he has prejudices for people, especially when they are from a world he knows so well. And he shouldn't feel bad for the actions of others.

"Well, I almost arrested Joshua because I thought it was strange that Rachel could have a long lasting relationship with him…"

"… and because you didn't like how he called you out on your romantic life" he smiles a bit, sad, tea cup close to Lisbon's still filled coffee cup, he interlaces their fingers, looking for eyes, searching for them. "you shouldn't listen to him. If you listen to me, and believe me, I know what I'm talking about because I've grown up in that world, they are the ones with the prejudices. He told you that you cannot understand the love he shared with Rachel, but he is the one who doesn't understand. Because he doesn't know you. Lisbon, Rachel loved him despite his appearance, but his sickness can be cured, kept under control, and a good surgeon could do wonder for his body. Physical appearance isn't such an issue in a relationship. But… the…. Soul… of a person? Lisbon, you care about people even when they hurt you, even when they betray you. You love people despite their souls, and that's what real love is about. I mean, look at me. Even when we were just friends… even when we were just coworkers… you stick by me, you always have, and that's why you don't only understand him, but you are… it's so much more than that…" he smiles, massaging her knuckles, and feels her sniffing- poor woman just started to cry because of how touching his words have been. "So… Sylvia? What does your instinct tell you?"

"I think she was sincere about her connection with her aunt, and that says to me that she wouldn't do her any harm.."

"But maybe, because of this particular connection, she felt the need to go after the man who she believe did hurt her aunt. This girl, she was living her life by proxy, and by killing her aunt, also her dreams and hopes have been shattered into tiny little pieces" he pauses "maybe, someone whispered major Willie's name in her ear, maybe our real killer… or maybe..."

"You just think she was in the wrong place at the wrong time. One of those coincidences you don't happen to believe in despite the fact that sometimes they happen" she grins, a little, not a grin of happiness, though, just one of… close to rage. "and besides, you are happy Willie is gone because, deep down, you don't believe a world you just told me. you thought he was piece of garbage, right?"

"Yeah, well, yes, and actually, it's not even so deep down if I have to be completely honest, but, you know, I just wanted to make you happy and tell you I was emphasizing with you, tell you what you wanted to hear since you feel guilty about prejudices and so on, so I thought, what the hell, right?" he pauses, retreating his hands, crossing them at the height of his navel, still looking at her, with a weird look. She knows that look. Either he did- or is about to do- something that shouldn't be done, or he is about to tell her something she'll not like for some still unknown reason. "and besides… are we _sure _they were both homicides? Rachel Grier was always full of that stuff…."

"… but she didn't used the drug that killed her, we didn't find it and mostly, someone tried to get rid of her body. Which, under normal circumstances, indicates that something is going on. Usually, a murder."

"… and nothing suggests that Willie dear has been murdered…"

"…and yet, someone staged a suicide, hanging him up hoping we were going to close the case immediately, and maybe even writing it off as sense of guilt for having caused Rachel Grier's death"

"well, I didn't say that the suicide hasn't been staged, but maybe it has been just an incident…. And maybe it has nothing to do with Rachel Grier's death and yet, at the same time, everything…." He pauses, grinning in victory "follow me: we saw the body. There was no sign that indicated a lethal injury, nor recent needles marks or abrasions around the neck that could indicate that he suffocated. My theory? He swallowed more than he could actually chew"

"and, translated in English for us poor mortal?"

"Oh, well, you see, our Willie didn't just swallowed objects, but swords as well. And since there's no trace of a cause of death on the outside, but I did sniffed the smell of blood, I'd say that somebody forced a blade through his throat while he was proving his number, puncturing his insides. Did you know that one of the main arteries of the body is somewhere in the stomach?" he pauses again" just, don't get me wrong, but maybe, whoever did it, they didn't want to actually, you know, kill him, maybe they thought he could… you know,, maybe they just wanted to scare him a little so that he could get clean about Rachel's death…."

"Wait. You said he didn't do it! You said you've been wrong about him and you were driven by prejudices!"

"Yeah, well, actually, first, I've never said all those words, second, whoever killed him, he thought Willie did it. Even if the only thing he did was getting rid of the body of the poor girl. I know how carnie people's mind work. He thought about the money, he thought about the show and the business. Either he didn't know we could identify Rachel, or he hoped to be far away out of the State once the body was going to be discovered. That's why I know he didn't kill her." She lifts her eyes, eyebrows almost reaching her hairline, quizzically. "Willie was all about the money, and even if Rachel was an earner, for one like her inside his carnie, there were tens outside waiting to take her place, as good as her. Killing her was too risky for him and for his successful business. And even if he wanted to try it, and I'm not saying he did r actually wanted to – Willie wouldn't want anyone else to get involved, out of fear of being called out. He would have done everything by himself, in the cleanest way possible. Only, who inadvertently caused his death didn't know it, and for some reason they think he was the one who murdered Rachel. He probably found our "smoking gun", so to say."

"he? You mean… Jane, what are you not telling me?"

"Oh, well, you see, it's just easy. Think about it. In that sick and twisted circus, who was gonna lose the most if Rachel body was going to be found and the show shouted down?"

"Well, we already told that Major Willie probably hid her body because he didn't want to lose his business…"

"Exactly! But think, who else, beside him? An help: you know him. And it's the only one among those freaks that couldn't live outside normally, his words."

"The elephant man! He… hid his lover's body? That's what you think? And then, he killed Willie because he thought he was responsible for Rachel's death…" he shines out of happiness, part of the case solved, but then, she darkens yet again, because something comes to her mind. "No, wait, it's impossible. Joshua was in co study when Willie has been murdered…"

"In fact, I've never said it has been him. You see, while I was over there all alone on my own, I had an interesting chat with few of the female artists, who were extremely responsive to my charms and my magnetic presence… and it seems that Sergio the Strong and our boy Joshua arrived at the same time. Together. Apparently, according to what Nancy tells me, the bearded woman, extremely fascinating character, the boys are siblings. And, I don't know anything about brotherhood and so on, but you, Lisbon, wouldn't you do everything for your brothers? If Sergio thought that his brother was going to be all alone in the oh so scary and evil outside world, don't you think he would do everything in his power to prevent it?"

"But then, he sees how Joshua is suffering because of Rachel's death, and decides to confront Willie. Only, things don't go as planned, and his boss ends up dead and it's the same problem all over again. So he stages the suicide…."

"…So that we, dumb idiot that we are, will write it off as a suicide induced by the sense of guilt following Rachel's death, we were going to let it go of them, they would go on with lives as nothing ever happened and they all lived happily ever after." He pauses, looking at her with triumph. "Now, before you ask me for evidences, even if it's not my field of expertise, I want you to know that when I went to look for the body, I noticed that his teeth and his nails weren't clean. And I'm sure that sorry imitation of Gollum that goes by the name of Partridge, will tell you it's not dirt or food, but DNA… he probably struggled for a while, before dying."

She crosses her arms, and looks at him, in silence. It's Jane's time to lift his eyebrows, like he actually doesn't know what she is thinking about, and why she is looking at him in that particularly annoyed expression. "And… when were you planning of sharing this particular knowledge with me?"

"Meh, isn't just important that I did share it with you? Isn't that all your trust speeches were about?" she lifts her eyebrows. Like she actually already forgotten that it took him two years to tell her that Red John had talked with him…

He doesn't reply, to, and doesn't wait to her to reply (there's no need to- her eyes, her expressive face, tell him everything he needs to know, they remember him of his failures and why he is still there, dedicating his life not to revenge but to make her as happy as possible), he just strolls out of her office like he went him, casually and like a force of nature (she wonders if that's what Sylvia was talking about, when she talked about her aunt). "So, don't you want to come and get a killer? I'd say that another trip to the carnival is in dire need!"

She doesn't know why, but she somehow, even in this dark hour, feels like smiling.


	6. Chapter 6

Di sclaimer:Uhm, no, I don't think I do.

* * *

><p>Another interrogation- she is getting a bit sick of those, she'd like to be on a case where she could investigate more on field, and mostly, she'd like to be on a case that could at least qualify as "normal", not something that keeps spiraling out of control, with cadaver after cadaver, a case that keeps messing up with her emotions, sensing her into conflict and confusing her.<p>

It's not because they are investigating a murder, was it any other case, she knew they could be… she could be… pretty ok. It's that this case, it's… this is his world, Jane's world, and they got it just after they have took that huge step that separated them from merely friends to something more- lovers, a couple, not officially but just in the secrecy of their houses and their hearts – and she wonders what effects the case is having on him. She wonders what he thinks, what he remembers, if he is conflicted.

The carnival isn't just his world, it's the world where he met his wife, a woman he has been faithful to for almost a decade after her death. Can she hope to compare to something like that? Does he want her to compare at all? She doesn't know. Jane doesn't talk- he barely talks about his past, his family, the one he created, in particular – and she doesn't dare to ask, scared to push the wrong buttons on her beloved man. Besides… besides, he asked her, begged her to trust him while he undressed her, kissing with passion and reverence every inch of skin he revealed, he asked her to believe to his words of love and utter possession while his lips found hers, suffocating moans of pleasure and cries of ecstasy- so, no, she can't ask him if she is just a rebound, if he isn't sure he just needed (needs) the company, the comfort of a warm, naked feminine body against his own. Nor she can't ask if being there- back home, in a certain sense – is planting in him the seed of doubt…

It's not like she has doubts. Because she doesn't. She knows she wants him- she has wanted him for a long time- because she does. She wants him (all of him, body and soul), and he has been right: she loves him enough to accept him, positives and negative sides alike, she loves him enough to not even taking into consideration the idea of changing him, or asking him to change for her. But it still doesn't mean that she isn't scared.

Maybe, it's because he is anything like she has ever meet before, different from all the men she met in her life, all the ones she has been with before him- it's not for his past, it's just… he looks for the fun in life, even just the small things. Like sharing an ice cream on top of a building, and has never looked for funny. She wanted serious, strong, dark, tall and handsome. And Jane… Jane usually hides at her back, he is blonde, not too tall but tall enough for her, and he is fun, with his tricks and his games and even his clothes and car (how can you take seriously anyone driving always in that trap on wheels?).

"So… Sergio…" Jane talks, inside the tent where Willie has been presumably murdered, Sergio, the "brute" (dark, tall, slim, young and with a costume that remembers swimwear from the twenties) , cuffed in front of them, ant it's like he is awakening her from her reverie, putting her romantic tribulations in the back of her mind, for a little while, at least. But she needs it out, because otherwise… she can't risk compromising the job because she is scared he'll break her heart, eventually.

That's why she didn't want Rigsby and Van Pelt to date. Too much drama.

"So, Sergio, tell me, did you kill Rachel because she broke your brother's heart? Did you do it to make her pay, and then, when Willie found out what you did, you shout him up too?"

"Sergio" (Seth, as the papers say) looks at the soil, and takes a big breath. She can sees it, and Jane can too… he isn't sure what he should or should not say, but it's not about fear. It's about… pain.

"Josh and I… we are twins. Our mother, she died of childbirth complications. Dad, he dumped us to some relative before we could walk, and then, Joshua started to… change. And they told us we were progeny o the devil. We were teens when we escaped, they didn't even looked for us… we met Willie, and we understood that it was our path to salvation." He pauses, eyes teary. "Look, I know what you think. And I know Willie wasn't a saint, but he was better than most, he didn't treat Josh like he was a monster. He was good to him, in his own way. Until…"

"Until what, Seth?"

"You found him hovering over her body, yes?" It doesn't sound like a question, not for real, the one that escape from Jane's lips, more like a rhetoric question, or even an affirmation. "he told you that we were going to close you up, and told that you needed to make it go away, and it remembered you what he had done until then: he had looked after your brother, and told you to do the same. Obviously, not in so many words, but I guess Willy could be pretty persuasive with just a look, right?"

He nods, sad but strong at the same time. "he told me that I had to make it go away, and I did it"

"Seth, Rachel died, and it hasn't been an incident. You realize that it's strange that the murder weapon hasn't been found in the whole carnie, and that you tried to hide her body can look suspicious? "

"I know what you think. You found out what was going on between Rachel and Joshua… you hauled him here, you questioned him… but he didn't do it. I know who did it!"

"How?"

"he has evidences. I think he believed the story of the overdose, until, in order to "make it go away", while he was cleaning up Rachel's tent, he found something…" Jane pauses, looking amused at him. "Now, I wonder, where did you hide it? Let me guess… you said Willie took you in, right? Did he thought you everything there was to know about his own specialty as well?"

"I.. I told him you had Josh, but he just.. he tell me to stay calm, and keep my mouth shout! He tell me he'll be fine, and to trust him… but I… I couldn't…"

"Seth, what happened?"

"I didn't want to! He was… swallowing his sword, when he …I shove him, and… he seemed fine, but he was mad, and he attacked me and he hurt me!" he lowers his costume, showing them his naked chest, and where his left nipple once was, there's just an open wound- the "meat" Jane saw between the teeth, a bite given while looking for protection, for self defense, of a way out. "I just thought that, if I made it look like he killed himself, it all would really go away…"

"Yes, but, Seth, we still doesn't know why you think that Willie killed Rachel…."

"C'mon, Seth, show her." Amuses, he looks at the young man in front of them, and then at Lisbon, with that… sparkle in his eyes, that was the thing she was talking about, bringing out the fun in their lives. He isn't shocked when he sees Seth regurgitating a small bottle of drug- a glass bottle of propofol, small than her little finger. "Tell me, Lisbon, isn't it just safer than a deposit box? And it needs even less paperwork!"

He takes it quickly, without bothering to contaminate it- he isn't an idiot in all things forensic, contrary to common belief, and he is pretty sure that all the fingerprints have been compromised by gastric acids – and runs outside, mobile already in hand, the bottle lifted in direction of the sunlight to see if there's still something that could be used. The name of the drug is still pretty much visible, but, mostly, there's bar code, and he is sure that Van Pelt could tell them where it comes from, even if… well, he already knows where it comes from.

"Jane! what the hell do you think you are doing!" she joins him outside the tent, and barely catches the bottle when he throws it at her, before moving in direction of her car. "Jane! where are you going!"

"What kind of question! We are going to arrest the culprit!"

"Jane, Willies dead, there's no need to run."

He looks at her like she was a five year old needing schooling. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but there's no record of him buying the propofol, ever."

"And so? You are always the one telling me there's no need for evidences, and besides, he was the resident Dr. Feel Good… and I have two words for you: black market!"

"Yes, but think about it: first, Willie was a natural born manipulator. He didn't need to kill Rachel to avoid losing her, all he had to do was open his magic mouth and the game was win. Second: there is someone who has access to plenty of propofol, even legally. Someone we haven't fully questioned before. A certain someone who didn't like our victim very much and resented her out of sheer jealousy…"

"Well, a doctor has normally access to propofol, but I don't know who in this case could…" she pauses, and she knows, and he knows the moment she does, it's written all over his face, how happy and proud is to have her at his side, getting there with him as well. "Oh God… you've always knew it, right? And you didn't bother to tell me the real killer has been right under our nose the whole time…"

"No need to thank you, Lisbon, really, I'm glad to help!"

"I wasn't going to say thank you! You didn't tell me you knew who was the killer all along! And because of that, Major Willie is dead!" she hisses, screaming in silence between clenched teeth, hitting him with her fists on the shoulder.

"Ehy, calm down woman. I didn't know it…well, it was one of my hunches, and you always tell me that we need to follow procedure… for once that I do as you keep saying me, you are mad? That's complete nonsense, what are you, under PMS? " she lifts her fist to hit him again, clearly mad, not liking, not even a bit, his soft, joyful tone, his sarcasm and the smart ass remarks he keeps giving her. That's not the time. And she isn't sure it's the place, considering they are investigating two murders. "In my defense: I didn't like this guy, and I hoped that we could find some dirt, if we kept investigating on him, that's all. You see how he treated these people, he had no respect whatsoever, he used and abused them and they didn't even see it…" he pauses yet again, massaging his injured shoulder. His eyes are low and soft, and she can see it: he is sorry. And she already has forgiven him. Like she always does (she is a sucker for him, for all things Jane, actually. He'll be her undoing, one day, she knows it, but she finds herself not caring at all, and she isn't sure she likes it. ). "I'm sorry, I really am… but, can we go catch our killer? I bet we'll not even have any problem in getting a confession…"

-o-

He has wondered if she loves zoos- now he is pretty sure she'll never want to see one again. They are sitting on a chair, inside Dr. Grier's office, ad as soon as she saw them, the woman asked them to sit, and started to talk. She is still talking. And what she is saying… it scares the hell out of them.

"Sylvia, she always worshipped Rachel. You heard what she said, about that "connection"…even if they barely knew each other!" she hisses, disgusted. But not with herself, never with herself. "Sylvia… she thought Rachel was this nonconformist, this adventurer, a free spirit… everything I wasn't, and I wasn't allowing her to be."

"But you were ok with that, right? You didn't care, oh, you resented her, all right, but it wasn't such a problem. You said it yourself, Rachel travelled the world, wasn't part of your lives… it was like she was a fantasy… or a ghost."

She nods at Jane's fantasy, but when her voice goes on, it's with more hate than before. "she asked me to come back! She wanted to insert her… twisted self into our home! And she told me that… she wanted to bring that thing in our home! She was having sex with… that thing! What kind of sick person would do that?"

"Dr. Grier… Rachel.. she was your sister…" she almost whispers. She can't see it, can't understand it. She has been mad and even mean with her brothers, of course, but never, ever, would she do such an extreme thing…

"No, she wasn't my sister any longer. ..She was just a freak, just like them." It's a quite admission, a simple affirmation the one of Dr. Grier. She isn't even upset about it, it's like she was talking about the weather or something socially acceptable and normal like that, some random news heard on TV or read on the newspaper. There's no remorse, no pain or even rage, she is emotionally shot down, no empathy whatsoever, and not for the first time Jane wonders how Wainright dared to call him a sociopath. "I told her there was no place among us for her, but she wouldn't listen, so she… she used my own daughter to get to me! my Sylvia… my own daughter, who always loved my sister more than she loved me…. she left me no choice, I did what I had to do."

"You let her to die, Dr. Grier. You slowly and painfully let her dying suffocating…"

She scrolls her shoulders, like yet again she was talking about the weather. "I knew what she used to perform her so called act…."

"So you used an anesthetic on her, catching two birds with one stone." Jane tells her, in his oh so casual way that unnerves Lisbon and makes her fume. One of these days, she always tells herself, she'll kill him, but it's never the day. And it looks like it will never be. "You get rid of your sister, and in doing so, and you did it in a way that you knew wasn't going to raise suspicions. Only, you didn't consider that the possibility of the body vanishing and then resurfacing somewhere else, hence, our suspicious."

"You don't understand. Sylvia is my family. She is the only family I have, and I would have done everything to protect her, I have to do everything to protect her….and I did, I protected her… and I saved her from the monsters!"

"Oh, of course, I mean, now your daughter will only end in foster care because you had the brilliant idea of killing the only other family member she had… which, let me tell you, was pointless. I mean, she was already resenting you, and now that you've killed her idol, well, I'm not sure she'll be that happy to go to see mummy behind bars just because she never get rid of her childish vanity and her false sense of superiority that, in truth? It hides just how unsure and scared of the world you are. You thought the monsters were out there, right? Well, I'm sure that if you'll ask Sylvia now, she'll be glad to tell you that she has lived with a monster her whole life without knowing it." He leaves he leaves his chair, and once he is at the door, he stops, and once again turns towards Dr. Grier. "You were right, though. You did protect her from a monster." He leaves, and when Lisbon looks at him, at his retreating form, just his back visible through the closing door, she wonders why he feels that way.

Despite what he thinks, Patrick Jane isn't, has never been a monster. And she is just going to show him. She'll make him understand. At any cost.


End file.
